


The Yucatan Job - First Move

by acs



Series: The Yucatan Job [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alien Invasion, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Pulp Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:33:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acs/pseuds/acs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Diva, Three Cheerleaders, and an Apocalypse. World domination never looked so easy. Sue Sylvester would have been so proud of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is Book I. Originally written for NaNoWriMo 2012. Most of the rough spots have been smoothed over, but some may remain.

_On December 23rd, 2007, at approximately 7PM local time, four members of a local youth singing group, all from Lima, Ohio, left the Lima Mall and headed home following a Christmas concert. They were never seen again. A year later their car was found abandoned in an old barn on the outskirts of town._

* * *

"Berry! Leave it alone," Quinn said, watching Rachel play with the car stereo out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure how she'd ended up getting the short straw. She suspected some kind of conspiracy by the others, but this was the last time she gave the annoying Glee captain a ride anywhere.

"But Quinn, we're missing 'All Things Considered'," Rachel said, pouting. "They're interviewing Patti Lupone this week."

"I don't care," Quinn said. "You can listen to that on your own time."

"Sani, make them stop fighting!" a voice spoke up from the back seat. "I want my Christmas music."

"Q! Get your hobbit under control," Santana growled, poking her head between them from the back seat. "And put the tunes back on."

"She's not my anything," Quinn protested, gripping the wheel tightly, as she navigated down the snow covered roads, the glare of car headlights going the other way giving her a headache.

"Don't care! You're upsetting Britt," Santana said, glaring at her.

"Santana…" Rachel began, attempting to defend herself.

"Did I say you could talk?" Santana said, turning to the other girl and giving her an evil look.

"No, but..." Rachel said, slumping back in her seat.

"The only 'but' here is the one you're sitting on," Santana said.

"Sani?" Brittany said, interrupting them.

"Yeah, Britt?" Santana said, quickly looking back at her.

"Why are those lights following us?" she asked, pointing out the rear window.

"Lights?" Santana turned around to see what Brittany was pointing at.

"They're all around us," Rachel blurted out in a squeaky voice, sounding frightened. "Quinn! Drive faster!"

"The roads are slippery," Quinn said, "do you want me to have an accident?"

"Would you rather have an accident or be kidnapped by aliens!" Rachel said. "I can't be kidnapped by aliens, I'll never get on Broadway."

"Chill, midget, they aren't aliens," Santana said. "Q, pull up under the next overpass. We'll be safe there."

Quinn sped up, slowly, trying to ignore the large lights that were starting to surround them and getting closer.

"Why is the car shaking?" Brittany asked, "And what's that noise?"

"Q?" Santana growled. "What are you doing?"

"Not my fault!" Quinn said. "I'm not driving anymore. They are!" She pointed at the lights.

"I'm too young to die! This wasn't part of my life plan," Rachel cried. "My phone doesn't work," she said, waving it around in a panic.

"You aren't dead yet, but if you don't put that down you won't have to worry about the aliens, I'll kill you myself," Santana said.

"Santana, I'm scared," Brittany said, her voice just barely audible over the loud hum.

"I've got you," Santana said, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. "You're safe."

Quinn squinted as the lights got brighter, making it harder to see. Looking in the rearview mirror, she could see into the frightened eyes of her two fellow Cheerios. Seeing a scared Santana was somehow reassuring. Reaching over, she grabbed Rachel's hand, squeezing it an an attempt to provide some comfort.

"Quinn?" Rachel said softly.

"Yes?" Quinn murmured.

"I don't want to die," she said.

"Me neither," Quinn said, pulling her into a hug, trying not to think about how calming the contact with the often annoying girl was at that moment.

"Santana, my head hurts," Brittany said from the back, "make the lights go away."

Before Santana could respond, there was a flash of light and everything around them just seemed to stop.


	2. The Hand

Quinn woke up slowly, shielding her eyes against a bright, white light with her arm. She wasn't sure where she was but it wasn't anywhere familiar. Whatever she was lying on was hard and unyielding. Very un-bed-like. And it seemed to be humming.

Her last memory wasn't very clear but she was sure she hadn't been alone. She'd been with three other people, a blonde and two brunettes, though she couldn't remember their names. Or what they were doing before this, whatever this was, happened.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Quinn uncovered her eyes, and sat up. Looking around, she saw absolutely nothing familiar. She seemed to be lying on the floor, in a featureless white room. There wasn't even a door, and the light seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" she said. Her words seemed to echo around the room. "Hello?"

Standing up, Quinn turned in a circle, her eyes attempting to follow the walls from corner to corner several times in hope that something would happen.

Suddenly, the humming stopped, and an opening appeared in the wall she was facing. Curiosity getting the better of her, Quinn walked through the opening and found herself in another white room. This one wasn't as featureless. There was a large chair-like thing in the middle of the room.

Stepping closer to it, to get a better look, Quinn shrieked when something invisible seemed to grab her and started dragging her across the room. Struggling, she tried to resist the pull but found herself sitting in the chair, for lack of a better word, unable to move.

As she sat there, a bright, warm red light ran over her, like a giant, soft brush. This happened several times and then stopped. Still frozen to the chair, she felt herself nodding off.

Opening her eyes again, Quinn found herself standing in front of a building that looked like something out of one of those kung-fu movies Santana liked to watch. She briefly wondered who this Santana person was.

Looking down at herself, she found herself wearing what looked like a brightly colored version of the karate gi she'd worn in middle school when she'd convinced her father that karate was good training for cheerleading.

"Hello?" she shouted.

"Hello," echoed from behind her in a toneless voice. The voice then said something in a language she couldn't understand.

Turning around she found herself facing a figure that appeared to be wearing a mask and tan overalls.

"Who are you?" Quinn asked.

"This unit is/shall be your trainer," it said in that flat voice.

"Trainer?" Quinn asked. "For what? Why?"

"You shall follow," it said. Turning it walked up the steps and into the large building. Curious, Quinn followed. In the back of her mind, she wondered why she was following directions like this. Shouldn't she be refusing? Shouldn't she be demanding answers? And why did she know something about her childhood but couldn't remember what she did the day before.

* * *

Quinn woke up in the chair, exhausted, not remembering how she'd gotten back there.

The trainer had run her through a series of exercises for what seemed like hours, rarely speaking. Oddly enough, she never became too tired to continue but after going through the exercises more times than she could count, her entire body shook. At which point the trainer stopped and sent her back to her chair.

Standing up Quinn shakily stumbled back into the other room and slumped on the floor. Later, she woke up to the smell of something delicious. Rolling over, she found herself facing a bowl with something soup-like in it, a spoon, and a glass of some liquid on a tray.

She hungrily ate the soup, and drank the liquid, before lying back down and falling asleep again. When she woke up again, she noticed she was now lying on a softer patch of floor raised several inches above the floor. It was at this point that she realized she wasn't wearing any clothes, not even the gi she'd worn during training. She wondered why she hadn't noticed this before. Or why it didn't bother her - or what, in the past she couldn't really remember, made her not care.

It was very strange. She knew that some things should bother her, like her nudity, but she couldn't remember why. Just like she knew there were three others that she should be looking for but she didn't know who they were and why she needed to find them. And she knew, just knew, that she really wasn't normally this passive, doing things without thought. Accepting the directions of some other that she couldn't see.

* * *

Time seemed to flow quickly wherever she was, though, since she didn't have any way to keep track of time, no calendar, watch, or even writing materials, or ways to tell one day from another, she wasn't sure how long she'd been there once she'd started noticing the passage of time..

She got up, ate whatever appeared in her room, went to the training chair, sat down in it and woke up in the other place and trained. She did wonder if it was even real, the time she spent training. And without a way to measure progress she couldn't tell if she was getting better. But she did notice a gradually change in the training. The moves she learned became more and more complex. She learned to attack, and to work in teams when multiple blank faced trainers appeared.

She never questioned how she knew what they wanted her to do. The trainers never seemed to speak but Quinn felt like she was constantly communicating with them.

As time passed, she noticed changes in her body. She'd been in good shape before, for a cheerleader. But her muscles became more refined, stronger. She didn't look like one of those body builders, she decided, but her body was becoming something more. The remaining fat from her pre-teen years completely disappeared.

Her endurance seemed much higher than before, though again she had no way to really measure it. No way to compare it to earlier levels. No matter how hard she pushed the trainers they reacted the same. It took longer for her to tire. Bruises, scratches, and other injuries disappeared somewhere between training sessions and returning to the chair.

In her idle moments she wondered what the others would think of her now. Would they recognize her? Were they doing the same thing? Training to fight? Were they even here, somewhere? And who were they?

There came a point when she seemed to reach a plateau. When she stopped improving. And then things changed. Her trainer changed. It became bigger. Faster. And she learned to fight this bigger trainer. Yes. Fight. At first, when she first learned her moves, she didn't realize they were teaching her how to fight. When she first realized what was happening it was like a giant lightbulb went off in her head.

They, whomever the mysterious they were, were turning her into some kind of fighter. She wondered if she would get to practice her moves against an opponent like herself or if she would always fight the faceless trainers.

Things started to happen faster. She learned to fight bigger opponents. Faster opponents. Multiple opponents.

And then armed opponents while unarmed herself. And then they started teaching her how to use weapons herself. Bladed weapons of all sorts, from short stubby knives to long swords and spears. And then weapons that could kill from a distance. Throwing weapons - slingshots, bolas, a bow. And lastly, energy weapons.

Knives with energy blades. Weapons, that she wanted to call guns even though she couldn't remember what a gun was, that threw bolts of energy at a target. Some that fit in her hand. Others too heavy even for her increased strength that required some kind of support.

At some point she stopped learning new things from her trainers. She just seemed to be training for the sake of training.

And then things changed again. It was around this time that she realized that the place she went to when she sat in the chair wasn't real. That it was some sort of virtual reality place that grew or shrunk as she needed. She wondered if it was like the Matrix, though she couldn't remember if the Matrix was real or not.

She continued working on her forms, unarmed and armed. But now she spent half her days improving her knowledge of warfare, building on the instinctive responses of her trained body. She learned about the battle tactics of the Centurions of Drax. The marching orders of Roman legions and French Legionnaires. The strengths of the Pirates of Alderaan and their weaknesses. And many more.

And she learned everything from guerrilla tactics to organizing battles on a galactic scale. She soaked it all up like a sponge. She wondered if in the life she still couldn't remember much of if she'd been a warrior. In simulation after simulation, she fought battles to the last soldier standing.

Along the way, they taught her how to make speeches to her imaginary troops, though the learning process was a bit mystifying. But she also learned to listen. Both when she was in charge and when she was at the bottom. And she learned how to care for those under her. That motivated troops fought harder. That well trained troops fought smarter.

At the end of the day she would have to remind herself that these weren't real people. That she fought with, died for, and argued with, the ghosts, simulations, of real people. Ghosts of a long dead, nameless culture. A culture she slowly absorbed, both in the style of clothes she wore and the language she spoke. And technology she learned to use.

She could feel time passing, accelerating, but still had no way of keeping track of time other than when things changed in her room. Her room gained a small table and chair. A closet for clothes. Clothes she could wear, though she had no reason to. A mirror. One corner was now a shower, with some kind of force field to keep the water in.

At some point she acquired a tablet computer which contained records of everything she learned as she learned it, including books on strategy and tactics, and stories of famous battles fought by the people in her lessons, that she read when she was back in her room. And where she started recording all of her thoughts.

And then, one morning, she woke up remembering everything. Her past. Her friends. Arguing with Rachel in the car. And being kidnapped. And it shook her. Because she was different. It was hard to relate to that past self. She couldn't imagine going home the way she was. She wasn't sure how long she'd been there but the person she saw in the mirror had to be years older than she'd been on that cold, scary winter evening.

But one thing she'd learned as they trained her to become that deadly person she now was? That loyalty mattered. That she needed to find Santana, Brittany, and Rachel.

She wasn't sure what she would do once she did. It would depend on them. Were they the same or had they also changed? Would they be willing to escape? Or stay? And why was she naked?

And, as she was contemplating this, rearranging her memories in her mind, new and old, a new door appeared in her room. And half forgotten voices drifted in. Looking around, she grabbed the first thing she could think of to cover herself with.


	3. The Memory

"Five more minutes, Daddy," Rachel murmured, scrunching her eyes closed against the bright light. Her bed seemed to be vibrating, almost humming. Keeping her eyes closed, she stretched. Her fingers kept moving, not hitting her headboard like she expected. Feeling around, eyes still closed, Rachel tried to find the edges of her bed. Surprised at the unexpected feeling of something smooth under her questing finger tips, Rachel sat up, opening her eyes, flinching at the glare of the light.

As she gazed around the featureless room, the last few moments in the car flooded back. Large white lights surrounding Quinn's car. Brittany crying, and Santana swearing in Spanish and something else. And an oddly quiet Quinn holding her tightly.

Standing up, she rotated in a circle, taking in the extreme lack of anything in the room she was in. No windows. No furniture. No bed. Or clothes. That last fact being the most shocking.

"Oh, my Barbra!" Rachel gasped out, trying to shield herself against any prying eyes. For a few minutes anyway. Until she realized the futility of her actions. "Hello?" she said. She frowned at the way her voice echoed back to her. She had excellent hearing and could tell something was off. She spoke again. "Is there anyone here?" Yes, definitely off. It wasn't a true echo, unless she was in a room a magnitude larger.

Frowning, she cautiously started walking around the perimeter of the room, humming. There were several spots, on adjacent walls, where the echo was deeper. She didn't have anything to mark the spots but she figured she could easily find them again, now that she knew what to look for.

"Doors?" she wondered, speaking softly to herself. "Or just different material?" Shaking her head, she returned to the center of the room and sat down, legs crossed in a lotus position. If the aliens thought she would panic for their amusement, they had another thing coming, she decided. Closing her eyes, she started running through the stage version of Funny Girl in her head.

After several long hours, by her always correct internal clock, of nothing from her captors, not even a squeak, Rachel started singing, something she could keep up for hours.

There was no bed, but the floor was warm. When she ran out of energy, she curled up in a corner and slept, waking up several hours later when the tone of the low, humming sound changed. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and looked around.

One of the walls, she wasn't sure which one since they were all identical, now had an opening in it. Standing up, Rachel cautiously approached the opening. Entering the new room, she could see a raised area that looked very chair-like. Curious, she approached it, walking around it several times.

On her third circuit, she ran into something invisible, coming to a quick stop. "Ouch!" she grumbled, rubbing her head. Sticking out her hands, she tried to find the thing she'd banged her head on. But there was nothing there. Turning, she tried to go in the other direction but only managed to walk a step before running into something else. Turning back in her original direction, it happened again.

"I get it!" she shouted. "You don't want me to go anywhere." Shaking her head at the rude alien behavior, Rachel sat down on the chair-thing. Sitting there, she hummed to herself for a few minutes. Without realizing it until it was too late, she lay back on the soft object, feeling sleepy. She struggled to keep her eyes open. She tried to pinch herself awake. Nothing she tried worked.

Rachel panicked when she woke up. She was somewhere else, and her normally accurate time sense was failing her for the first time in her life. She was also wearing clothes for the first time since being kidnapped, some kind of colorful pajamas.

"Hello!" she shouted, turning in a circle, trying to understand what was going on. She could see she was standing between two buildings.

"Follow," a metallic voice said. Turning, she saw that she was no longer alone. It was some kind of mannequin. And it was talking to her.

"Why?" she asked. "Where are my… friends," she asked it. It was only a small white lie. The aliens didn't need to know that she wasn't really friends with the others and that they barely tolerated her on a good day and made her life difficult on a bad one.

"Follow," it repeated. "You must learn."

"Learn what?" Rachel asked, following the talking mannequin up a set of stairs into a large room with a padded floor.

"Follow," it said for the third time. But this time it didn't walk away. It stood in front of her, making strange movements. It did this several times before repeating "Follow."

"Oh! You want me to do that?" Rachel said, nodding that she understood. A little exercise would be good, though she couldn't quite figure out the purpose of the moves.

This went on until she was exhausted. "Enough," she said, protesting. "I haven't had anything to eat and I'm probably stinky. The mannequin stopped and pointed at the door. "Yeah!" Rachel said, quickly moving before it changed it's mind.

When she stepped through the door, she found herself sitting in the chair and naked again. "Huh. I wonder how that happened," she said. "Must be an alien thing," she decided. Standing up, she walked back into what she decided must be her living area. As she passed through the door, her time sense sprung into action, telling her she'd been busy for twelve hours. No wonder she was tired and thirsty.

But there didn't seem to be any food. "Hello!" Rachel shouted. "If you don't feed me I can't do those things." Stupid aliens, she muttered, going back to the middle of the room and lying down.

There was a soft sound behind her. Turning around, Rachel found a small tray containing some kind of soup in a large bowl.

"Is this vegan?" she asked. "You probably don't even know what that is," she grumbled. I wonder how one contacts the management in this place?" She picked up the bowl and sipped the soup. "Not bad, for alien soup," she said to herself. "Now I need something to drink." She said this louder but nothing happened. "Fine!" she huffed.

* * *

The days seemed to blur together. She went to the training place twice a day for what felt like a year, though her internal clock told her it had only been a month. She wasn't sure which to trust. But, in that month, she could feel herself changing. She'd always prided herself in being physically fit, taking dancing lessons, exercising every day, but this was on a whole different level.

In the mornings it was some kind of self defense training. It wasn't something she recognized, from her limited experience from watching kung-fu movies with Finn during their brief romance, or from watching Ultimate Fighting with Puck a few times during that doomed semi-relationship. But, as it progressed, she became more confident. Barbra help any school bullies she ran into. She bet she could take them all if she had to.

Half way through that pseudo-year they introduced simple weapons. She learned to defend herself with a knife and the basics of swordplay that she was sure would be useful when she made it to Broadway, even if it wasn't very flashy. They taught her how to use something that looked like a gun, though only until she became proficient enough to hit a target. But the main focus remained on what was clearly self defense.

Afternoons made no sense at first. She would sit in the chair and suddenly be somewhere else, watching people and other creatures do things while a voice spoke in a language she couldn't understand. At first she tried to communicate with the people and creatures but it quickly became clear to her that they weren't really there. It was like she was in a big 3D television, from the inside.

After a week of this things started to click and she could pick out words. Another week and she could mostly understand what people were saying. It was a revelation. The aliens were teaching her their history, or someone's history she decided, since she still hadn't met any of them other than the talking mannequins who rarely talked back except to give her orders and instructions.

In the evenings, she talked and sang to herself, afraid she would forget her own language and history. And danced when she had the extra energy.

The alien history lessons lasted for what her time sense said was a year. In some ways it was exciting, learning about the history of a people that seemed to travel in space. In other ways it was frustrating because she could tell a lot of things were left out. And some things had to be memorized while others seemed to not really matter.

She learned the names of the founders of the twelve original families that made up these traveling aliens but knew almost nothing about their technology. Learned that each of the families had their own languages, though everything she learned was in a thirteenth language that had no name.

She knew of the battles that first brought them together, and when they all first left their home planets. Learned when leaders died and were born but nothing about who they were now. Or where they'd all gone.

And then things changed. She assumed they'd taught her everything they wanted her to know about self-defense when, one morning, the training lasted only an hour. An hour of things she already knew.

"Done with these lessons," the mannequin, that she'd begun to call Charlie just to have something to talk to, said, in its limited vocabulary. "Only maintain."

"What?" Rachel blurted out. "Why?" She had gotten used to the physical activity.

"You are not a warrior," the afternoon voice said, in the alien's language.

"No, I'm a singer and future Broadway star, when you let me go home," she said, replying in the same language, mostly. She'd noticed months ago that her thoughts seemed to make her feel happier when she used their language, a language that had no name.

"All must know the Way of the Warrior. Even the Memory of Us," the voice said. "But now you must learn to save the Now."

"Huh? The what?" Rachel said, confused.

"Someone must remind the lost People of the past," the voice said. "And prepare them for the Return."

"I don't understand," Rachel said. "Who are the lost people and what are they returning from?"

"There is still much to learn," the voice said. "Now, go."

"Stupid aliens, and their stupid words that don't make sense," Rachel grumbled. "A whole year of training. A year of learning about some stupid aliens. And only now they'd decided to explain why?"

She stomped towards the door of the training building that had a name that sounded fancy in the alien's flowery language but caused her to giggle when she translated it into English.

Stepping through the door, she found herself back in the training chair next to her room. It was too early for lunch but she wasn't going to stay in the chair so she got up and went into her room, intent on washing up. She never seemed to sweat while training but often found herself soaked through when she woke up in her chair. Stepping into her room she was surprised to find it had changed.

Instead of the short, blanket-less pallet that had appeared after her first month, there was now what looked like a proper bed, though it was designed like ones she'd seen in alien homes while learning their history. It was covered with very colorful blankets. Her room also now had something resembling an alien wardrobe. Poking around in it, she found clothes in assorted colors, in several alien styles that looked familiar. She wasn't quite sure what they were made out of, though it seemed to be a natural fiber.

That wasn't the end of the surprises. On a short table, that she hadn't seen before, was something flat, that looked like a thing that a lot of the aliens carried around on their space ships. From her observations, she'd assumed that it was some sort of computer but her history lessons hadn't included any details. And now she seemed to have one of her own.

Reaching forward, she picked it up. The moment her fingers touched it, it flickered to life. Back home, she'd considered herself fairly computer literate but the device was definitely not something she was familiar with. The entire front seemed to light up. Along one edge there was a row of icons. Fortunately, somehow, the method escaped her, she'd learned to read the alien language. There wasn't a big 'Don't Panic' sign on it, she noticed, semi-disappointed. But on one icon there was the glyph for writing, and on another was the glyph for library. There were also a number of others she didn't recognize.

She eagerly pressed the one for library and was presented with what looked like a list of subjects. Music? She thought to herself. Surely they had music? The thought had barely escaped her when one of the items expanded. She just barely held onto the device in her surprise. Experimenting, she thought about watching a play. The device's screen changed again, to another, shorter list. Frowning, she read the list, looking for something familiar. The names didn't mean anything so she randomly picked one.

"Oh!" she said, loudly, as a dramatization of an event from the early history of the aliens started to play on her tablet. "So, they must have culture," she said excitedly. "Let's hear some of their music!"

* * *

After quickly eating her lunch, Rachel went back to exploring the alien music, until it was time for her afternoon history lesson. That too was now different. Instead of indirectly teaching her the alien culture through their history, the focus seemed to change. Going back to the beginning of their history, she learned their stories. Their music. Their art.

It was fascinating in a way learning their history hadn't been. Every night after her history lesson she submerged herself in alien music, learning new songs, and watching their plays. Songs of love and sacrifice. Tales of ordinary people and their heroes. Tales of survival. A vibrant culture that she inhaled eagerly.

Time passed almost unnoticed. Almost. There was what seemed to be a never ending supply of new and different music. Centuries, possibly millennia, worth. She couldn't wait to perform it for an audience. Or to show off the original dances she'd created for the music, since the only dancing the aliens had recorded in their histories seemed to be folk dances and martial displays.

And then, after what her inner clock claimed was another half year, the bubble burst when she paused long enough in her cultural exploration to remember she didn't have an audience. To wonder, for the first time in ages, what had happened to the other girls. To wonder if they were having as much fun as she was, because, even when she'd spent hours exercising or learning alien history, she hadn't been bored. And learning new music that no one else had heard before? That was heaven.

"Where are the others?" she asked aloud for the first time, wondering why she hadn't even asked the question before. She hadn't forgotten about them but she'd rarely thought about them.

"Your companions are training," the ever present voice said.

"What kind of training," Rachel asked. Having someone else to sing to or dance with would be wonderful, she thought. Santana with her husky, sexy smooth voice, Quinn with her delicate, sweet voice, and Brittany who was almost magical in her movements. Picking up her tablet, she started to excitedly go through her music library.

"What is needed," the voice said.

"Needed for what?" Rachel said, even as she continued to search through her music.

"For the Return," it said.

"When will I learn what that means?" Rachel asked. It seemed to be the reason behind everything.

"Soon," it said. "The training is almost complete."

"Good, a duet partner will be great," Rachel said absently, testing the notes to a song in her head.


	4. The Breath

Santana rolled over, reaching for Brittany. And continued rolling. "Brit?" she said. Hearing no answer, she opened her eyes and found herself alone in a large, white walled room.

"Brit?" she shouted. "Brittany?" Still no answer. She continued to shout until her voice was raw and hoarse. Exhausted, she crammed herself into a corner where she could see the rest of the room, and cried herself to sleep.

'San?' a soft voice whispered in her ear.

"Brit?" Santana said, shakily standing and looking around. "I can't find you! Where are you?"

'I'm right here, watching you," Brittany said.

"Where?" Santana said, staring at the walls. "I don't see you!"

"Of course not, silly," Brittany said, giggling.

"Why not?" Santana said.

"You need to learn things," Brittany said. "The aliens said so."

"Why can't you be here with me?" Santana asked.

"Because I have to learn things too," Brittany said softly.

"Learn them with me," Santana said. "We always learn together."

"You need to concentrate, San. And you know you can't do that with me around," Brittany said.

"Yes I can," Santana said. "Tell them to let you in!" she demanded.

"They won't. I already asked," Brittany said. "You were so sad, I made them let me talk with you."

"I won't learn if you aren't here! I refuse," she said. "Tell them that!"

"San, they won't understand," Brittany said.

"Why not?" Santana asked suspiciously.

"They're machines."

"We were kidnapped by alien robots?" Santana asked, her interest piqued. "Like Transformers?"

"San, those were robot people. These are machines. They don't have feelings like we do," Brittany said. "They don't understand what's wrong.

Santana could picture the sad face that went with Brittany's tone of voice. "I still refuse to do anything until they let me see you."

"Do you want to be like Quinn?" Brittany said, sadly.

"What did they do to Quinn?" Santana asked, curious. Quinn could be a bitch about some things but she was still a friend who occasionally need a hug or to cuddle, not that Santana would ever tell anyone that.

"She doesn't remember," Brittany said. "She refused to do what they told her, so they made her forget us."

"That's not good," Santana said, wincing and plotting revenge. Brittany was her girlfriend, soulmate, but no one messed with her Quinn and got away with it. "What's she supposed to learn?"

"They need a general, a war leader for the Return," Brittany. "So they're going to turn her into one."

"And she didn't want to do it?" Santana said, surprised. "She likes being in charge of things and ordering people around and that kind of shit."

"She's not who you think she is," Brittany said. "I've told you that before."

"Yeah, yeah, she's just a big, misunderstood marshmallow," Santana said sarcastically. "Brittany?"

"Yeah San?"

"Where are we?" Santana asked.

"I'm not sure, they won't tell me," she said. "But I think we should do what they want us to do."

"Why?" Santana asked. "Besides the whole 'no memory' thing they did to Q?"

"I think you'll like what they want you to learn," Brittany said. 

"What's that?" Santana asked.

"I can't tell you," Brittany said. "It'll ruin the surprise."

"You know I hate surprises," Santana grumbled. "Will we get to keep talking?"

"Maybe?" Brittany said hesitantly. "The aliens keep talking about temporal learning differences, whatever that means."

"Huh. Temporal is something to do with time," Santana said. "Like on that show Quinn likes to watch, about that time travel guy in the phonebooth."

"Oh!" Brittany blurted out. She stopped talking for several minutes.

"Brit?" Santana said, getting worried. "Are you still there? Brit?"

"Sorry, San. They didn't make any sense. They had to show me this temporal stuff."

"Was it fun?"

"Some of it. The clocks move at different speeds. Some real, some not," she said. "It's only been a week for Rachel. But it's been a month for Quinn."

"What about us?" Santana asked. "Are we moving at the same clock speed?"

"We can't," Brittany said. "It's been a month for me but only two days for you."

"That means you're getting older than me!" Santana protested.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Brittany said in a whisper. "But you can't tell anyone."

"Sure," Santana said. "You know I can keep a secret."

"This time thing? It's all in our heads," Brittany said, giggling again.

"What do you mean?"

"When you sit in your chair? Everything happens in your head. Like the Matrix without the nasty jello or baldness," she said. "But better. We aren't getting older, except there."

"So I have to take a pill?"

"No, silly. Nothing like that," Brittany said. "But San?"

"Yeah?"

"You still need to be careful. You can still get hurt even if it's in your head."

"So no crazy Matrixy stunts?" Santana asked, frowning in disappointment. "Can they give me some badass skills? Like Neo?"

"No," Brittany said. "They can't just pop things into your head. You need to learn things for real. What happens in your head happens to you."

"What do you mean?" Santana asked. She wondered what they'd been teaching Brittany. Her girlfriend was smarter than most people thought but she learned things differently.

"Just a sec," Brittany said.

"This means no sex, doesn't it?" Santana said. "This friggin sucks!"

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"They say your body, your muscles, learn too. So, it's like, if you figured out how to do a triple somersault in your head when you're in the chair, your muscles learn it too so you can do it out of the chair. It's just faster. Kind of."

"Huh. So we could learn one of Sylvester's routines in a couple minutes in this chair?"

"If we wanted to," Brittany said. "San? I have to go."

"Why?"

"You need to sleep, and I need to get back to my things," Brittany said.

"Can we talk later?" Santana said.

"Yeah," Brittany said. "You're going to have so much fun!"

"If you say so," Santana said, yawning.

"Now sleep!"

"Yes, Brit," Santana said, tiredly closing her eyes.

* * *

The next thing she knew, she was awake. And hungry. Looking around, she spotted a small table in the middle of the room. On it was a tray with a bowl of something steaming away. Next to it was a vase with a flower sticking out of it. Smiling, she crawled over to the table, and sniffed the flower. Only Brittany knew she was a sucker for flowers.

Looking down at the bowl, she frowned. It looked like some kind of corn mush, like her great-grandmother used to make. And no spoon. Shrugging, she picked up the large bowl and tilted it, pouring a small portion into her mouth.

"Tastes like her's too," Santana grumbled. But she hadn't eaten in what felt like days, so she ate as much as she could stomach of the lukewarm mush. When she put it down, she heard a slight hum. Turning around, she saw a new door in one wall.

"I hope you're right, Brit," Santana said under her breath. Her girlfriend's idea of fun wasn't always the same as hers. Walking over to the door, she poked her head into the other room. In the center of it was something kind of like a chair, though nothing like she'd imagined it. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she cautiously walked over to it and sat down. And waited for something to happen.

"Now what," she muttered, poking the soft surface. "I'm ready!" she shouted. "Time to get my Keanu on!"

Shaking her head, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Might as well take a nap, she thought. And that was when something happened.

Feeling a sudden breeze, Santana opened her eyes. She was standing in front of several Japanese looking buildings. Dojos, she thought. Looking down, she stared at the kung-fu pajamas she was wearing.

"This is so cool!" she shouted, twirling in a circle in her excitement. "Bring it on! I'm so ready!"

"Follow," a flat voice said behind her. Turning she saw some kind of android-robot thing standing between her and one of the buildings.

"Sure thing, Robbie," she said. "Lead the way." Waving her hands, she motioned for the robot to get moving.

* * *

"So… tired…" she said, slumping forward in the chair. It had been worse than her first day of Cheerios boot camp. "Ouch!" she shouted, her skin sticking to the surface of the chair. Standing up, she stumbled into her room, hearing a slight hum as she passed through the door. Glancing behind her, she saw the door disappear back into the wall.

"Need a shower," she said, shaking her head. She'd worry about that later. "Brit!" she shouted, hoping her girlfriend wasn't busy. She shouted several more times but there wasn't an answer. Looking around she noticed a raised, bed shaped area in one corner. She wondered if it was softer than the floor. And then she heard the distinct sound of a shower. Turning towards the sound, she saw what looked like solid steam in the corner opposite the bed.

Not having any clothes to remove, she stumbled towards the steam. Stopping in front of it, she stuck out her hand, quickly pulling it back from the sudden sting of hot water. Nodding, she stepped through into the corner.

"Huh. Alien hot shower," she mumbled. "But no soap," she said to herself, turning around and squinting against the rushing water. Sticking out her tongue, she cautiously tasted the water.

"Yuck!" she said, spitting it back out. "That's not water!" Grimacing, she started scrubbing her hair and every part of herself she could reach.

"Done!" she shouted. "You can turn it off!" The not-water turned into warm air, quickly drying her off. "I could get used to this," she said, "if Brittany was here and not somewhere else."

Stepping out of the shower corner, Santana noticed a bowl on the small table, though there wasn't a flower with it. "Lunch?" Walking over she sat down on the floor in front of it. It was definitely something hot, and looked like soup. Sticking a finger in it she tested the temperature. Licking her finger, she decided to eat it, picking it up like she had her breakfast.

Once she finished eating, she crawled over to the bed pallet and fell asleep.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again, the door to the other room was open again. "Now what?" she wondered aloud, just to hear the sound of her own voice. Curious, she went back into the other room and sat down in the chair and closed her eyes.

When she reopened them, she found herself in a large room. On one side of the room was a large thing. An jet airplane looking thing. Next to it were several smaller bike-like things.

"Where am I?" she said, not expecting an answer.

"Training," a flat voice said in her ear, causing her to jump in surprise.

"Don't do that!" she said. "Training for what?"

"All who wish to fly must first learn to build," it said.

"Huh?" Santana muttered, looking for the voice. Turning back towards the machines, she couldn't see them. It was as if they had disappeared when her back was turned.

"Okay. Needing a little more explanation," she said.

"This is the training room," the voice said. "You will learn."

"Gottcha," Santana grumbled. "But what and how?" 

One of the walls lit up, and things seemed to move on it. Shaking her head, Santana walked over to it. It was like a large TV screen. There was a picture of one of the smaller things that had been in the room, and lots of words in a language she didn't recognize.

"I can't read this!" she shouted at whatever seemed to be listening. Looking around, she found a cushion and pulled it in front of the large screen. As soon as she sat down, another voice started talking. She noticed that as it talked, words glowed. The voice continued until it had highlighted every word on the screen, and began again.

"This is a crappy way to learn!" Santana said, once she figured out what it was doing. "I still don't know what any of it means."

After the tenth time through, she started repeating what the voice was saying out of sheer boredom. Once she'd repeated it several times, the picture started to glow in places with certain words. It occurred to her that they were trying to teach her all the parts of this thing.

She wasn't sure how long it had been but at some point the screen turned off and she found herself back in the chair, tired, though not as tired as she'd been before lunch. Getting up she went back into her room and laid down on her bed and fell asleep.

When she woke up again she assumed it was morning because there was another bowl of the corn mush, and a flower, on her table. After eating, she went back to the chair, and found herself once more with the robot that seemed intent on teaching her some kind of exercise system.

It was again one of the more intense workouts she'd ever had. Followed by lunch, a quick nap, and more of the staring at words on a wall and repeating them.

This went on for a month, before she heard from Brittany again. She still wasn't sure what the morning training was for, other than to improve her flexibility and strength. After a week she'd noticed subtle changes in how her arms and legs looked but didn't have a mirror. The afternoon lessons had progress to the point where she could take apart one of the little machines and put it back together with her eyes closed, though she wasn't too sure what it was, though she had her suspicions since it appeared to have a place to sit.

"Hey San!"

"Brit! Where have you been?" Santana said, sitting up.

"Places," she said. "Have you been having fun?"

"It'd be more fun if you were here," she said, pouting.

"Not yet," Brittany said. "Soon."

"Hey Brit?"

"Yeah?"

"What am I doing?" Santana asked. "I mean, I'm in great shape, and I know how to build that thing, if I have all the right pieces. But the robots won't tell me why!"

"You're learning," Brit said. "That's what's important. It's exciting."

"I guess," Santana muttered, not wanting to ruin Brittany's enthusiasm.

"This is just the beginning," Brittany said. "Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. You'll see."

"That's what you said last time," Santana said.

"I did?" There was quiet for a minute. "Oh, I did. And I was right."

"So, what are the others doing," Santana asked, hoping to keep Brittany talking and not disappearing for another month.

"Rachel's so cute," Brittany said, giggling. "She's learning all these new alien songs and she's making up dances to go with them."

"That's great," Santana said, sighing. "For her."

"It's how the aliens are teaching her their language," Brittany whispered. "Just like they've been teaching you."

"They aren't teaching me their language," Santana said. 

"Sure they are. We've been talking in it," Brittany said. "They just did it a different way and you didn't notice."

Santana thought back on their conversation. "Does this mean I'm forgetting English?" she asked.

"No, silly. Did you forget Spanish just because you have to speak English at school?"

"Of course not," Santana said. "I just didn't notice."

"It's easier to understand the alien stuff if you think in their language," Brittany said. "That's why they have been teaching you their science stuff in their language."

"You learned it to," Santana said, realizing something. "Science stuff? They've just been teaching me how to put that thing together like some kind of mechanic."

"The science comes next," Brittany said. "They won't let you fly the scooter until you understand the science."

"It flies?" Santana said excitedly.

"If you put it together right," Brittany said.

"Yeah!" Santana couldn't sit still. She stood up and started pacing back and forth.

"San?"

"Yeah?"

"I've got to go," Brittany said.

"When will you be back?" Santana asked, hoping it was sooner than last time. "And when can you be here in person?"

"Um…"

"Please?" Santana said, staring up at the ceiling.

"They said I can talk to you again after your first flight," Brittany said.

"If I have to understand the science stuff, that could be years," Santana said, grumbling.

"San, you're very smart. It won't be that long."

"If you say so," Santana said, perking up. "Hey, you never said what Q-tip is doing."

"The same stuff as before," Brittany said. "They had to start her from the beginning, just like you."

"So, she's learning how to be a mechanic?"

"No, she's learning how to be a warrior," Brittany said. Santana could almost see the tears, shivering at Brittany's sad voice. "I don't like it."

"She's tough," Santana said, trying not to feel jealous. "She was head cheerleader for two years in a row. That takes guts. She can take it."

"I just want her to be happy," Brittany said. 

"You said she doesn't remember anything," Santana said. "So won't she be happy learning all of this warrior stuff?"

"Not when her memories come back," Brittany said. "She's gonna be mad."

"So they aren't gone completely?" Santana asked. "You never really said."

"They'll let her have them back when she's done. I think she's going to be very, very angry, but they don't care. They need a general."

"What about the rest of us? Do they need us too?"

"Yes," Brittany said. "We're all important for their plans. Just in different ways."

"If you say so," Santana said, laying back down. "Good night, Brit."

"Goodnight, San. Love you!" Brittany said.

"Love you too!" Santana said, closing her eyes and imagining Brittany in her arms again.

* * *

Santana lost track of time. Exercise in the morning. Learning alien science in the afternoon. She did notice a gradual change with her morning routines. The robot trainer gradually added what she thought might be fighting moves but never directly told her.

Learning how alien things worked was an odd experience. The voices would explain a concept in words she couldn't understand, and then demonstrate it using the scooter. They would go over it again and again until she understood it completely. But she didn't feel like she was learning.

And then the day came when they taught her how it flew. And she understood. And realized they'd actually shown her this a long time ago, though it hadn't made sense at the time. 

She spent the next ten afternoon lessons learning how to fly. How to make it go fast. And fancy maneuvers. And she was good at it, if she said so herself. They even taught her how to fly in formation at high altitude, the scooter's shield on, protecting her from the cold air.

And she didn't wonder why she hadn't heard from Brittany yet, like she'd promised.

* * *

"Hey San!" Brittany's voice spoke to her as she ate her meager dinner, some kind of soup, again, with unidentifiable vegetables floating in it.

"Brit!" Santana yelled excitedly. "They're letting me fly!"

"Yeah!" Brittany said. "It looks like so much fun."

"You saw?" Santana asked. She hadn't know about that.

"They let me look, sometimes," Brittany said. "Whenever I'm good."

"Why can't I see you?" Santana asked.

"I'm not doing anything exciting," Brittany said. "Just brain stuff."

"I just wanna see you," Santana said, pouting.

"We'll see," Brittany said. "Maybe when you're done with your next set of lessons."

"Do you know what that is?" Santana asked. "They never tell me anything straight up. I have to guess."

"I think you get to learn how to drive a taxi," Brittany said, sounding puzzled. "They said you'll learn all about something called a shuttle."

"A shuttle? Like on Star Trek?" Santana said, excitedly. "I get to be an astronaut?"

"You know I never watched that stuff," Brittany said. "Maybe?"

"That's so awesome," Santana said. "I wonder what it's like to wear an alien space suit? Do aliens even have space suits?" she mumbled to herself.

* * *

Every couple of weeks she would talk with Brittany at night for hours, but Santana's days were full. For half her mornings she would learn new moves in what were clearly becoming fighting lessons. In the afternoons, she learned how alien shuttles worked. It wasn't quite like Star Trek, though she could see herself being like that Klingon engineer in the one series. The hot one. And she wasn't learning how to build one from scratch like the scooters.

But she could do emergency repairs if she had to. If she had the parts. And time. And she began to understand the basics of what made them work. What made them fly, and what made them run. She could tell there were a lot of things left out of her lessons. She knew someone must program the computers in the things but she'd only learned enough to navigate.

Which was an eye opening experience in itself. With the scooter she hadn't really worried about such things. You pushed a button and steered. It was mostly automatic, even if she now understood the mechanics. Navigating in space was mind blowing. There was so much to learn. She figured she spent a month on just that subject.

She knew it wasn't real real, it was Matrixy real, but the first time they let her fly a shuttle, she was so excited she couldn't sleep. It'd felt so real. If Brittany hadn't told her about the whole temporal learning, and yes, she knew enough alien science to understand how that worked now, she would have thought it was real.

* * *

"Hey San!" a voice breathed in her ear. Waking up, she felt fingers running through her hair. Turning over, she found herself looking up into the most welcome sight ever. Brittany. Naked.

"Brit!"

Brittany giggled, and pulled her into a kiss. "I really wanted to see you," she said, her warm breath fluttering against Santana's lips.

"Can you stay?" Santana said hopefully.

"For a little bit, before your next lessons," she said.

* * *

Brittany visited her twice more and talked with her at least once a month while her lessons progressed. But she never talked about her own training and ignored any questions Santana had about the purpose behind everything.

* * *

The highlight of her experience training, in her opinion, came after a year and a half of flight training, in gradually bigger and more complex craft, when she learned to fly the alien equivalent of a fighter jet. It felt more like something she wore, than flew. It had the maneuverability of the alien scooter and the durability of one of their troop transports. With guns.

It used the same kind of propulsion that all alien craft used, some kind of inertialess drive for in-system flight and something vaguely reminiscent of the warp drives in Star Wars. For weapons, they had something like missiles using the same propulsion as her new craft, with all sorts of deadly payloads. There was also some kind of gun for up close and personal fighting that threw heavy bits of metal at high speeds.

The aliens taught her how to use the weapons, and what the general scientific principles behind them were, but not how to build her own. They were cramming so much information into her head that she really didn't have time to be disappointed.

At the two year mark, things took an odd turn. She still talked with Brittany on a regular basis, and she still trained for at least an hour every morning, though it seemed to be mostly to maintain her physical fitness after several months of what Brittany had eventually told her was self-defense training.

But they stopped introducing her to new craft. At last count she'd learned to fly and maintain over twenty different alien craft. From the tiny scooter up to large and fast fighters. She'd even spent time learning about the larger alien battle cruisers, for lack of a better name, though that was mainly an exercise in telling simulated crews things to do, and observing them in battle.

One day, she eagerly sat down in the chair, wondering what new craft they would have for her, and found herself in a classroom, instead of the combination hangar, classroom she'd been using. The walls were view screens, covered in writing, that she could now read, and pictures.

"Okay," Santana said, "now what?" One of the screens beeps, so Santana sat down in front of it. "Alien PowerPoint?" she grumbled, as words scrolled out on the screen, a lot of dense facts about some ancient battle. The number and type of ships involved on either side. Casualties at the ship level and personnel level. 

"That's depressing," she said, noticing how both sides had practically destroyed the other. And then the battle played out on the screen in front of her, with footnotes. It looked slightly unreal, like a movie.

She spent a month on the war that the battle was the culmination of, learning how to analyze the tactics and strategy used by both sides. She found it fascinating, if a little dry at times. At least until the invisible trainers started including 3D simulations. She was able to watch the actual decisions being made by the leaders of the warring nations. Good and bad. She would see a planning session and then see the results.

Once the aliens were satisfied with her understanding of that early space battle, they had her learn another one, of a different kind. A war with fewer set battles and more quick actions. 

If it hadn't been for Brittany, she would have lost track of the days as she war-gamed against simulated foes. Planning large and small campaigns. And learned how to manage both small and large scale battles once they were set in motion. And learned from her mistakes. Because of the nature of war in space, she rarely thought about things on the individual scale. Until Brittany would ask her a question she could answer. Questions about the people killed in these alien wars. About the cost of the destruction to the people these battles supposedly helped.

"San, this isn't a video game," she said one evening. "People died in these wars. You need to be better than these captains and admirals who got so many of their people killed, because they didn't care about the cost and you need to."

And gradually she learned. The aliens rewarded her for plans that ended up with more survivors. For plans that achieved their goals without total destruction. She learned to think long term. She more than once wondered if the aliens had a game like chess, so many of their wars playing out like the game her Papa had taught her. She wouldn't be surprised if they'd invented it. 


	5. The Shadow

Brittany had a secret. It was a huge one. Not even Santana knew it. But it was just the way her life was. What was her secret? The people she lived with weren't her parents. In fact, they weren't people at all, but smart robots in disguise. This isn't to say that they were just machines. No, they were what some people called AI, artificial intelligences. 

But in some ways her guardians were very parental. They made sure she was fed, had clothes to wear, and went to school. And she loved them, though she suspected as she grew older that they didn't really understand her.

How could she have android guardians and Santana never find out? It was so simple. They looked human. They even behaved like humans, if a bit more eccentric than most. Her parents had been aliens who died in an accident leaving her in the care of her guardians until someone came for her. And they took the responsibility seriously.

One of the things they did was train her in ways above and beyond what human schools could provide. Before she was ten she could speak a dozen different languages, alien and human. No, she couldn't read minds, the human brain just wasn't designed for that ability, and she was oh so very human. But she did become adept at reading body language and understanding how the people in her life thought. 

And they made sure she could defend herself. Before she was fifteen, she was proficient in several alien martial art forms as well as judo and kickboxing.

Her school didn't have a gymnastics team but they did have cheerleaders led by a fanatically obsessive coach, which gave her much of the same kind of training, though not as single minded, and more socially oriented. And her guardians let her take dance classes, they weren't heartless. They had access to a millennia of information on how the minds and bodies of their humans developed and made use of it.

Her parents had been advanced scouts for a spacefaring race, one of a multitude scattered across the galaxy. But her guardians had never explained what brought her parents to Earth. She'd been raised as human, which she was, if slightly more advanced. But she didn't mind. It was just how things were.

And then, one day, she was kidnapped by unfamiliar aliens with an agenda. She could have easily escaped, once she had time to calm down. But that would have meant leaving the others behind, something she couldn't do. Not only because one of them was her girlfriend, but because she found the alien's goals to be interesting, much more interesting than school, even if they hadn't told her what the real goal was. And her friends would actually learn things as a result, even if they didn't know it.

One of the things she did manage to do was convince the alien AI that had kidnapped them that she didn't need to follow their complete training. She told them she was useful the way she was, and could learn in her own unique way without being completely immersed in their training. And learning a new language? No big. And, amazingly, they believed her.

"Why won't you let me tell Santana the truth?" she asked for what felt like the millionth time, after talking with her girlfriend. Santana didn't know that it was all in her head, not just when she sat in the chair. She wasn't actually living in her own room, but was in some alien learning device.

"Because it would interfere with her training," the Voice said. "You have already interfered with her initial programming."

"San isn't as independent as she likes to think," Brittany said. "She needed to know I was safe," she protested.

"Her protectiveness is a useful trait," the Voice said. "She will make an excellent Fleet Protector."

"Why her and not Quinn?" Brittany asked, curious, since the Voice was in an overly talkative mood.

"The Quinn has her place," the Voice said. "Her abilities are far more suited for the training she is being given. She is being molded into a weapon. Your Santana is a shield."

Brittany shuddered. She'd peeked at some of Quinn's training. She wondered if her friend would still be herself when they finished with her. The whole blocking her memory seemed very heavy handed to her.

Santana, on the other hand, thanks to her interference, would still be herself at her very core when they finished.

"And Rachel? You told her she's the Memory," Brittany said. "And stuffed her head full of stories and songs. Did you really need to do that?"

"Her mind was already trained for the task," it said. "And we have found that the People of the Tribes prefer their own ways of remembering. The Memory has a very important role. Which she will fulfill."

"When will they be done?" Brittany asked.

"Soon."

"And then?" she asked.

"The next stage will commence," it said.

"Which is what?" Brittany asked.

"You shall see it with them," it said.

"You're no fun!" Brittany protested, pouting.

"You are late for your own lessons," the voice said.

"I'm going," Brittany grumbled. She really didn't like their learning pods, even if they seemed to work. But she had an agreement with their AI. As long as she learned, she would have some freedom. Of course, since their training methods could not completely override her own anti-mind tampering, it wasn't quite the same experience as it was for Santana and the others.

Continuing to grumble under her breath, she stripped off her skin tight overalls, leaving them in a pile on the deck, next to her personal pod. Punching buttons, she watched as the pod opened. Grimacing, she climbed in. She really hated this step, she decided, as a gloopy fluid completely covered her. She knew better than to hold her breath, but she always gagged as the gloop invaded her lungs. It was not the most pleasant feeling.

Before she could get used to the feeling, everything faded around her and she found herself in her own training place. Stretching, she prepared herself for it to begin.

* * *

Brittany wasn't sure how Santana would take her new skills but she was having fun. She alternated between hour long sessions with the training androids, improving her fighting skills, and the rest of her time learning how to be a spy.

Fortunately, her self defense skills were already very well developed, so they mostly had to be honed, as she was taught how to use them in a very deadly fashion. The aliens had very specific plans for her, that they'd shared parts of, once she'd made it clear that her cooperation had a price. They started by teaching her all of the skills of one of their dreaded assassins from the Order of the Black Mask, who made ninjas look like weak amateurs.

Observing Quinn's training more than once, she wondered who would win in a fight. Herself with all of her sneaky alien ninja skills or Quinn, who'd been trained to the absolute limits of her physical ability in a number of alien martial arts. She would never tell Santana this, but as fierce as she could be, and as deadly she was becoming with her space ships, she wouldn't have a chance against either of them. The AI had explained that Rachel was trained to defend herself, but Brittany hadn't been able to peek in on any of her training, so she wasn't sure how it compared to her own or Quinn's.

One of the reasons they gave her so much freedom, though she was sure it was mainly an illusion, was that part of her training involved breaking and entering both physical structures and alien computer systems. By the end of her training, there wasn't any alien computer she'd been exposed to that she couldn't hack. The exceptions being the systems jealously guarded by the AI in charge of their training.

As her training progressed, and she compared it to what the others were going through, she suspected they were training her to run an intelligence gathering operation of some sort. She not only had deadly skills but she could teach them to others. She did wonder what they were going to do with her once she was trained. She'd been dangerous, if she said so herself, before they'd been kidnapped, but now she was like one of those super spies - James Bond or the Black Widow or even Sidney from that TV show. Except she could build her own organization if needed, so maybe she was also becoming M, who she'd always thought was hot in an older woman kind of way.

She also wondered if the aliens had kidnapped anyone else. That there didn't seem to be any guys involved was puzzling, though she wasn't upset about that. Brittany could feel something important was being hidden from her but she wasn't able to figure out what that was with what little she knew. But her intuition was trying to tell her something was wrong.

In some ways, learning in the alien training pods was a relief. Like she'd told Santana, it was like being in the Matrix, only better. She could focus on learning everything they were trying to teach her and not worry about things like eating or sleeping. Sure, Santana, Quinn, and Rachel ate and slept and did all sorts of other things in their pods but that was because they thought it was the real world.

The times she was able to be with Santana helped but she really missed physical, real contact with her girlfriend. It might feel real in the training pods but she knew better. 

She also wondered how they were dealing with the strange way time moved in the pods. It had only been six months in real time, but in subjective pod time… It had been three years for Santana, two for Rachel, and over four for Quinn. Her own training had actually taken a lot longer in pod time, almost five years. Years in her head where she only talked with Santana every few months and spent less than a month of personal, subjective time with her. 


	6. The Gathering

Coming out of the pod was always rough. Especially when it wasn't her choice. Her brain accepted the change in perspective better when it was her idea.

"What's going on?" Brittany asked, laying there as the goop disappeared back to wherever it came from.

"It is time," the AI told her. "You must go and prepare them to leave the training pods."

"I could have just stayed in," Brittany grumbled pointlessly. She might be able to communicate with the alien AI but it was still alien. It often made little sense to her. Like why pull her out when it could have talked to her in the pod and connected to the worlds the others were in.

"The second stage must begin now," it said, sounding slightly impatient, though she knew that was just her. "Go."

Grimacing, Brittany slapped the pod's activator, and impatiently waited for it to fill up again, glad that she didn't need to plug herself into anything. If she understood it correctly, the goop was the interface between her mind and the virtual reality of the learning pods.

She'd been thinking about this for a while, how she'd involve the others, but she didn't really have a plan. She wasn't going to lie to them. She didn't know what the alien's plans were once they were all trained. All indoctrinated like good little drones. Even herself. 

She knew the training pod had been influencing her own actions even if she were, in theory, protected against such manipulation. But it was a lot more powerful than anything she'd experienced before. She could tell there were differences in the way she thought before the kidnapping, and now. She couldn't change it but she could feel the changes in her head.

The pod had shifted some things around. Some simple, like the language she used every day now being the alien one she'd learned. Now it took a conscious decision to use her native language, or any of the languages she'd grown up with. And there were other things. Things having to do with the alien's culture. She wasn't sure if it had been part of her intelligence training or just things she absorbed along the way. But there were also things she knew she was missing.

Once her mind had fully adjusted to the learning pod, which could take seconds or minutes, she found herself in a space that looked remarkably like the one she saw when she visited Santana. Except mostly empty. Hanging from a hook on the wall was a large, brightly colored woolen cape. Taking it down, she twirled it around for a minute, just enjoying the weight of it in her hands.

If it were just Santana, she wouldn't bother covering herself up, but Rachel and Quinn, not matter how much they might have absorbed the alien culture and its laxer views on clothing, were a different issue. She wanted to talk with them, not make them uncomfortable. So she wrapped herself up in it, buttoning it together so that it was more dress-like.

"Now what?" she grumbled. Without any prompting, a door silently slid open in one wall. Leaving the room, she found herself in a much larger room with a carpeted floor, and large piles of cushions scattered everywhere. She wondered whose mind the AI had found it in. She suspected Rachel if any of them, since she'd been to Santana and Quinn's houses and it was nothing like anything she'd seen there. 

Looking around the room, she spotted three other doors, all closed. One opposite hers, and two perpendicular, like the points of a large cross.

Carefully making her way across the carpet to the room directly across from hers, Brittany looked at the door and grinned. Directly in the middle of it on a small square was a symbol she'd seen before, back when she spent days learning how the aliens organized their military. It was their symbol for 'Lord of the Air', an archaic title for the person who controlled the alien space fleets. That wasn't quite Santana's role, as far as she knew, but it was close to what they'd been pointing her at. 

Normally, alien doors opened on their own if you stood in front of them, and you were allowed admittance. Even virtual ones like this. But this one didn't seem to want to open. She assumed whomever was behind it, hopefully Santana, was sleeping. So she pounded on it, hoping to get a response.

"San! Time to get up," she shouted. It would have been so much easier if they'd just popped her into the room. She wasn't sure Santana would know how to open it from the inside. So she pounded again.

"Hold your horses!" Santana shouted back from behind the door.

"San?" Brittany said loudly. "You have to open the door, I can't do it for you."

"Brit? What are you doing out there?" Santana shouted, sounding very puzzled. "How do I open it. I don't see a door."

"I need you out here so we can talk," Brittany said. "Just tell it to open."

Suddenly, the door silently slid open and a very naked Santana burst out of the room, tackling her to the ground.

"Brit! You're here!" Santana said, holding on tight. Not even pausing to let Brittany get a word in, she started kissing her.

"Santana!" Brittany said, pushing her away so they could talk. "We need to talk, and I can't do that if you keep kissing me."

"You don't like my sweet lady kisses?" Santana said, pouting. "I haven't seen you in months."

"Sorry," Brittany said. "We can do that later. And more I hope," she said under her breath. "But you need to get dressed."

"Why?" Santana said, pulling her tighter, and peppering her with more kisses, everywhere she could reach. "This needs to come off," she said, pulling on Brittany's cape.

"San, stop!" Brittany said, stepping back. "Now isn't the time."

"It's always the time for us to get our thing on," Santana said, stepping closer and tickling her.

"We need to talk," Brittany said, giggling.

"So talk. I'll be right here," Santana said, trying to burrow throw Brittany's cape.

"We need to talk with Rachel and Quinn," Brittany said, trying to get her attention.

"They're not here," Santana said, ignoring her. "Talk with them later. More important things to do."

"They're right here," Brittany said. "Somewhere. I think."

"They can wait," Santana said, pulling Brittany into her room.

"We can do this later," Brittany protested, shivering as Santana ran her hands up and down her back while attempting to remove her cape.

"Don't wanna," Santana said, pulling Brittany onto her bed.

"We can do whatever you want later," Brittany said. "After we talk with the others."

"When did you get to be so stubborn," Santana said, huffily, looking up at her from her bed.

"I haven't changed," Brittany said, frowning. "Mostly."

"This mostly is why you're even hotter than the last time I saw you?" Santana said, trying to pull her onto the bed.

"You've changed too, San," Brittany said. "All that training looks good on you."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Santana said, smirking and flexing a bicep. 

"Never," Brittany said, slipping out of her arms. "But we need to get Rachel and Quinn out here."

"How do you know where they are?" Santana said. "They could be on another planet."

"There are two more doors," Brittany said. "Two more people. Quinn and Rachel."

"If you say so," Santana said, grumbling.

"Absolutely," Brittany said, pulling Santana back to her feet and dragging her out of her room, pausing only long enough to grab a cloak for Santana to wear out of her closet. "Put this on," she told her girlfriend, throwing it over her head.

"Why?" Santana said, pulling the cape on.

"Because you'll scare Rachel," Brittany said.

"So?"

"Because I said so," Brittany said, kissing her.

"Okay," Santana said, reluctantly.

"Which one's which?" she wondered, pulling Santana over to one of the other doors. The door was a deep purple. She didn't recognize the symbol on the door. So she started knocking.

"That's the symbol for the Fleet Memory," Santana said. "I wonder why it's here."

"You're brilliant," Brittany said, picking her up, and twirled her around.

"I've been telling you that for years," Santana grumbled, struggling to get loose, "and now you believe me?"

"Memory, memory, who's got the Memory," Brittany sang. "Rachel does," she added.

"Rachel's the Memory?" Santana said, frowning. "That must suck."

"She's good at it," Brittany said. "They say she's a natural."

"She does have that annoying ability to keep talking no matter how many socks get stuffed down her throat," Santana said.

"Be nice!"

"I am. I'm just surprised. Why did they make her a Memory?" Santana asked.

"They haven't said yet," Brittany said, knocking on the door. "That's one of the things we need to talk about."

"Are they going to let us go?" Santana asked, trying to tickle Brittany.

"Who let us what?" Rachel said, poking her head out of her now opened door.

"Hi Rachel!" Brittany said, hugging her tightly.

"Hi Brittany," Rachel squeaked, trying to pry herself loose. "It's been a while."

"But you remember us, right?" Brittany asked.

"Of course I do," Rachel said. "Why would I forget?"

"See!" Brittany said to Santana. "That's why."

"I remember people too," Santana said. "That doesn't make me a Memory."

"No." Brittany turned back to Rachel. "We need to talk," she said.

"Okay," Rachel said. "Do I need to get dressed?" she said, tugging at the large blanket wrapped around her.

"If I have to, you have to, Smurf," Santana said.

"Just checking," Rachel said, running back into her room. "Be right back," she shouted over her shoulder.

"Now we just need Quinn," Brittany said. "You should probably stay here," she added.

"Did they fix Q's memory?" Santana asked, following her across the room to the remaining door.

"They didn't say," Brittany told her. "It'll be a lot easier if we don't have to tell her who we are." 

Before they could reach the door, it slid open on its own.

"That's creepy," Santana said.

"It's the last one," Brittany said. "I think I should go first."

"No way, Brit," Santana said, putting herself between Brittany and the door. "What if she's totally got a screw loose since they've been mucking around in her head."

"They would have fixed it," Brittany said, stepping around her. "They need her not broken."

"What's going on," Rachel said, in a loud voice, joining them in front of the last door.

"Nothing," Santana grumbled.

"Be nice," Brittany said, lightly whopping Santana in the vain hope it would make her behave. She turned to Rachel before Santana could add her opinion. "Did you like learning all of those things?" she asked Rachel.

"Most of it," she said. "Some of it was depressing. But I learned many new songs."

"Well, Quinn didn't want to learn, so they made her forget everything," Brittany said. "And then put her through training."

"That's horrible," Rachel said. "And unfriendly."

"They aren't fluffy kittens," Santana said. "These are hard-core, take over the world Aliens," she said, keeping an eye on the now open door. "Just consider yourself lucky they didn't do the same thing to you."

"Santana, why are you still standing there?" Brittany asked.

"If Q-tip lost her marbles you're going to need protection," Santana said.

"I can handle Q," Brittany said. "Don't worry."

"Didn't they train her to be a gung-ho warrior of some sort?" Santana asked. "I think I'm the best one to deal with her craziness."

"Hello, Quinn," Rachel said, interrupting her. "You look well."

"Berry, Santana, Brittany," Quinn said, casually leaning against her doorway, draped in a brilliantly colored blanket. "What's going on?"

"Brittany wanted to talk with us," Rachel said, nervously looking at the floor. "She hasn't said why."

"Please come out here," Brittany said, backing away from Quinn's door. "It's more comfortable," she added, flopping down on a large cushion. Santana sat down next to her, pulling her tight.

Rachel grabbed another cushion and sat on it facing them from several yards away. Quinn sat down an equal distance from the others, not bothering with a cushion.

"So, Brit, what's the what," Santana asked.

"Your training is done," she said. "You each know everything you need to."

"How do you know that?" Quinn asked.

"They told me," Brittany said. "They want us to prepare for the next stage."

"Which is?" Quinn asked, her face blank.

"I don't know, but it requires a Memory," she pointed at Rachel, "the Hand," she then pointed at Quinn, "the Breath," she pointed at Santana, "and a Shadow," she finished tapping her own chest.

"What does all that mean?" Rachel asked. "The titles?" she said.

"There are other titles," Brittany said. "Those are just the ones I learned in my training."

"The Memory is sort of a historian slash bard person," Santana said. "Every fleet has one when they go on an expedition. It's the person who helps citizens understand their history and puts events into other forms. You must be ours? Which means..."

"Which means we're going to do something epic," Brittany said, clapping her hands excitedly.

"I see," Rachel said, frowning. "What's the Breath?"

"The person in charge of the fleet is the 'Lord of the Air', also called the Breath, but we don't have a fleet," Brittany said. "But if we did, San would be in charge of it."

"And the 'Shadow'?"

"Fleet Spy Master," Quinn said. "She'd be in charge of all intelligence gathering for the fleet."

"Spy?" Santana said, staring at her girlfriend. 

"With sneaky alien ninja training," Brittany said, smiling deviously. 

"That sounds awesome," Santana said, grinning. "What about the Q? What is she?"

"She runs the army," Brittany said. "The ground troops of the Fleet."

"More like Marines," Quinn said. "For when the fighting needs to be up close and personal."

"So, you all get to fight? And I just watch?" Rachel said, pouting.

"Do you want to fight?" Brittany asked. "Or be responsible for killing other people?"

"Um… no?" Rachel said. "But I bet you're all great at fighting. I bet they taught you all lots of things. I just know the history of the aliens and how to defend myself."

"You do?" Brittany said. "I learned how to spy and stuff, and use all sorts of cool spy toys, but they didn't tell me where they came from."

"I've got a lot of battles stuck up here," Quinn said, tapping her head, "and know more than I want to about leading people into battle but not a lot of background. I don't know why they were fighting."

"That's what a Memory is for," Santana told the others. "Someone needs to have perspective. Someone needs to understand why things happen the way they do. I wouldn't want that job myself," she said. "I'd rather be out there, flying."

"Flying?" Rachel asked.

"Spaceships," Santana said, grinning. "All sorts of them. I must know how to fly dozens of spaceships."

"Brittany? You said we were done? How do we get out of here?" Quinn asked.

"And do we get to go home?" Rachel asked. "I haven't seen my fathers in forever."

"It really hasn't been that long," Brittany said.

"It was at least two years," Rachel said.

"More for me," Santana said.

"I don't really know," Quinn said. "It was hard to keep track of time, I was so busy."

"Six months, in real time," Brittany said. "The learning pods can control subjective temporal learning time so things seem longer but in real time? Six months," Brittany said.

"Learning pods?" Rachel asked.

"This is all taking place in our heads," Brittany said, waving at the room. "None of this is real."

"I though that was only when we sat down in the training chairs," Santana said. "Like in the Matrix."

"How do you know that?" Quinn said.

"Brittany's been visiting me?" Santana said.

"Only you?" Rachel said, looking upset.

"I'm sorry Rachel, but San really needed me. You're used to being by yourself, and Quinn was sort of out of it," Brittany said. "Sorry Quinn, but I couldn't stop them." Quinn just nodded at her, an alien expression crossing her face before it was expressionless again..

"So, do we click our heels together three times?" Rachel asked.

"I left my ruby slippers in the car," Quinn said, winking at her.

"No, it's a lot simpler than that," Brittany said.

"If this isn't real, will we lose all of this?" Santana asked, slapping her legs and stomach.

"San, do you remember when I told you this wasn't exactly like the Matrix?" Brittany asked her girlfriend.

"Not really," Santana said. "I know you said it was six months but that was a long time ago in my head."

"Well, it's not. Any changes to you," she said, poking Santana in the ribs, "will stay."

"What about all of my notes?" Rachel said. "Will I get to keep them?"

"Yes, I think," Brittany said. "I'm not sure how that works but it's in your head because it has to be somewhere, but the things you learn won't go away. That would be dumb."

"So how?" Santana asked.

"Just say 'End Training'," Brittany said.

"Just like on the hola-deck?" Santana said.

"No, this isn't Star Trek," Brittany said. "Before you do, though, you need to let me finish."

"Go for it," Quinn said.

"Please," Rachel added. Santana just nodded.

"The learning pods are really weird the first time you use them," Brittany said. "There's all this goopy stuff and it feels like you're going to suffocate. But it goes away really quick, as long as you don't panic. Just wait until someone comes to get you."

"Do we get to keep our towel?" Quinn asked.

"I told you she would be crazy," Santana said, poking Brittany. "Let's leave her here in the Matrix."

"I'm not crazy," Quinn said. 

"Don't worry Quinn, some of us understood that reference," Rachel said, giving her a small smile. "What about our rooms?" she asked.

"I don't really know," Brittany said. "There were so many things they wouldn't tell me."

"Well, that's not ominous," Santana grumbled. "This is all probably an elaborate prank, or a slasher flic. Fortunately, the blonde always gets it first, so that would be you, Q-tip."

"Be nice!" Brittany said. "They aren't letting us go home any time soon, so we need to get along."

"So you already have an escape plan?" Santana asked, smirking. "I knew you were smart."

"Yes, I'm smart," Brittany said, hugging her. "Smart enough to know whether or not we need an escape plan. I want to get out of the pod but I'm not ready to escape yet. There's too much we don't know yet."

"So, no escaping?" Quinn said.

"No escaping," Brittany said, nodding her head. "Don't worry," she said hugging Santana. 

"When do we get out of here then," Rachel asked. 

"Now?" Quinn asked.

"Now," Brittany said. "All together…"

"Training End," they all said at the same time.


	7. The Team

Rachel gasped, coughing. She felt like she was swimming in jello. Moving her arms, she pounded on the thing she was inside of, repeating in her head 'Don't Panic, Don't Panic, Don't Panic.' It was like being in a slippery tube. Spitting out the stuff in her mouth, she shouted 'Open Please!'

The top slid open, and she found herself looking up at a wet looking Quinn.

"Come on Berry," Quinn said, holding out a hand. "Out you go." Rachel grabbed her hand and used it to pull herself up and out.

"I need a shower," Rachel said, flinging off some of the stuff coating her skin.

"Watch it!" Santana shouted.

"Sorry," Rachel said, looking across the room where Santana was leaning against Brittany.

"I agree," Quinn said. "A shower would be good."

"Your rooms have been prepared," a soft voice announced.

"Who's that?" Santana asked.

"The AI that runs this place," Brittany said, gesturing at the room.

"No name?" Rachel asked.

"She won't tell me," Brittany said.

"She?" Quinn asked, joining them at the now open door.

"All of the AI's are female. Hadn't you noticed?"

"No."

"No."

"No."

"Well, they are," Brittany said. "Let's get you all cleaned up." Grabbing Santana's hand, she headed out of the pod room. "And then you'll need something to eat. You can't starve in the pods but real food is much better. And important after time in the pods."

"What's that?" Rachel asked as they passed a series of closed doors.

"We can do a tour later," Brittany said. "If you don't get out of that," she said, poking Rachel in the material covering her shoulder, "before it dries, you'll lose some skin taking it off."

"She could strip now," Santana said, "though that would probably ruin our lunch."

"Please keep your clothes on, Berry," Quinn added. "Not something I want to see, you showing off your so-called assets."

"Don't worry Quinn, she has some very nice assets," Brittany said, causing Rachel to blush.

"How do you know?" Santana asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Brittany said, giggling, as she skipped down the corridor.

"Yes, I would," Santana said, frowning.

"I'd like to know also, Brittany," Rachel said.

"I have my ways," Brittany said mysteriously. "And here we are," she said, stopping in a small alcove with four doors, two on either side. "Put your hand on your symbol, and no one else can get in without your permission."

Quinn walked over to the door with her symbol on it and pressed her hand against it. It got flesh burning hot for a second before opening. Quinn didn't say anything, just looked down at her hand to see a red mark before walking into her room.

"Ouch!" Rachel shouted, her voice clearly carrying.

"Dammit!" Santana shouted seconds later.

Quinn just shook her head, looking around. It wasn't identical to her room in the pod, but it had a bed in a similar location. Walking around the room, she examined everything. Instead of a wardrobe, there was a large closet, with familiar looking clothes. She'd save checking those out until she'd taken a shower. Which she didn't appear to have.

But there was a door in its place. Opening it, she found herself in a large bathroom, like something she'd seen in magazines. While she was staring at the tub, wondering how it worked, a door on the other side opened.

"Quinn?" Rachel said. "What are you doing in my bathroom?"

"Your bathroom?" Quinn said. "It's our bathroom," she said, unhappily.

"Did you want to use it first?" Rachel asked.

"No, it's all yours," Quinn said, walking back to the door into her room. "Just let me know when you're done."

"Okay," Rachel said, watching her intently.

"I'm going," Quinn said, huffing. Stepping back into her room, she pulled the door closed behind her. She always felt like she was walking on pins and needles around Rachel, she wasn't sure why. She hadn't had a lot of contact with Rachel in school. And it felt so far away, even if Brittany was right and it'd been only six months. She had years worth of living by herself with only androids and simulations of real people for company. 

She went back to poking around her room. One welcome surprise was a tablet sitting on a large desk next to her bed. Picking it up she started poking through is contents, happy to see that it contained all of her information from the pod, though it seemed to be a faster device, with a much better screen.

Stripping off her body suit, keeping Brittany's warning in mind, she left it on the floor, not seeing any place to dump it. Looking around for a mirror, she didn't see any reflective surface, except for her tablet. Quinn tried to get a good look at herself. She remembered all of the changes from the pod, and tried to see if they were still there. She didn't consider herself vain or narcissistic but her appearance was one of the few things she considered valuable.

She was definitely going to need a haircut, Quinn decided. In the pod that hadn't been an issue, now that she thought about it. She hadn't had a haircut in ages and it showed.

Before she could drive herself crazy, a voice that sounded like Rachel spoke in her ear, telling her that the bathroom was all hers. Grabbing her robe out of the closet, she opened the bathroom door and peeked in, sighing in relief when she found it clear of any and all Berrys.

She gratefully took off the robe, hanging it on a hook. The tub didn't seem to have a curtain, so she assumed it worked like the one in her pod room. Stepping over the side, she found the tub surrounded by the same kind of force field as her pod shower. "Water on," she said, hoping it would be the right temperature. She wasn't sure how she'd gotten it to the correct almost scalding but not quite temperature in the pod.

* * *

"Santana," Brittany shouted, as she was pulled into the bathroom by her girlfriend. "We don't have time for this."

"Says who?" she asked, quickly stripping and then helping Brittany out of her own bodysuit.

Brittany shrugged, then jumped into the tub, and turned the water on with a quick thought.

"How'd you do that?" Santana asked, joining her. 

"I turned it on with my thoughts," Brittany said, puzzled. "How have you been doing it?"

"It reads minds?"

"Not exactly," Brittany told her. "It just picks up surface thoughts that you think at it. It can't get in your head. Why?"

"Because some things are private," Santana said, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and whispering in her ear.

"The AI doesn't care how often you think about sex," Brittany said, giggling. "It has other things it thinks are more important to worry about."

"Sex is important," Santana said in a husky voice, before licking Brittany's shoulder, her hands gently massaging her breasts. Brittany shuddered in delight. Knowing this was real, and not taking place in the learning pod, added to the intensity of the sensations Santana's fingers always caused when they touched her skin.

They played in the water, and became reacquainted with each other, until it turned freezing cold for several seconds and shut off.

"What was that!" Santana squeaked, as blasts of hot air dried them off.

"Time to get out," Brittany said, sighing. There was probably some important AI directed work or learning to do but she really hated her Santana time being interrupted.

"I'm not finished," Santana said, pouting before stepping out of the shower. "Think the bed is big enough?" she asked.

"It's the same size as the one in your learning pod," Brittany said, looking at it over Santana's shoulder as they left the bathroom.

"That was a bit cramped," Santana said, grimacing. "But it'll do until we can get a bigger one. Why don't we have a bigger one in our room?" she asked.

"Because we have our own rooms," Brittany said. She'd tried to explain that she needed a bigger room, and bed, for herself and Santana, but the AI hadn't gone for it. It had told her that if she wanted to share a room, then the other two would have to share a room, and she wasn't going to do that to Quinn. Or tell Santana. She'd want to do it just because it amused her. And that wouldn't go over well.

Brittany had learned years ago, during one of their rare sleep-overs, that Quinn was an extremely private person. She wasn't sure why. They'd all, well except Rachel, been taking showers together for years after Cheerios practice.

"We need to get dressed," Brittany said, skipping over to Santana's closet. "You'd look sexy in one of your pilot uniforms," she said, pulling one out. "The red goes great with your eyes."

"Do we hafta?" Santana grumbled, eyeing her bed longingly.

"We'll have plenty of time tonight," Brittany said. "They do let us sleep."

"Okay," Santana said. "Where's your room?"

"Right next to yours," Brittany said, "on the other side of the bathroom."

"So, if we share a bathroom, does that mean Quinn is stuck with the midget?" Santana asked, laughing.

"Be nice, San," Brittany said. "They're both our friends."

"Berry isn't a friend," Santana protested. "She's like one of those things that grabs on and won't let go."

"She's just been lonely," Brittany said, sighing. "She's nice once you get to know her, like Quinn."

"Q does get grumpy if we don't include her in things," Santana admitted. "But she complains about third-wheeling it. I don't know why she doesn't get just herself a boyfriend since what's his face dumped her after that Juno scare."

"He wasn't good for her," Brittany said, walking through the bathroom and into her own room. "All he wanted was sex. Which she doesn't like."

"I know, right! She's, like, the original Vestal virgin," Santana said, flopping down on Brittany's bed. "Where'd you get all of the pictures?" she asked pointing at the wall above Brittany's bed. It was covered with images.

"Part of my training," Brittany said. "I had to do a lot of sneaking around without being seen."

"And you didn't escape?" Santana said, pointing at pictures of Brittany's house, her parents, and several of Santana's parents, and brothers. There was even one of all of their parents together. At least she assumed it was, since she'd never met Berry's infamous 'two dads'.

"You were still here," Brittany said, sadly. "If I wanted to be with you, I couldn't."

"You have pictures of Glee!" Santana said. "I bet they fell apart without us. How long have we been gone?"

"Do you want the truth?" Brittany asked nervously. She'd told her so many different things.

"Yes!" Santana said. "You said we were in the learning pods for six months…"

"We've been gone five years," Brittany said, sniffling. "They think we're all dead." She didn't add that she'd actually been able to speak with her guardians, once they'd moved away from Lim after her disappearance, and explain what happened. That probably wouldn't go over well.

"Geez…" Santana said, pulling Brittany into a tight hug. "Seeing them and not being able to talk must have sucked."

"They named the choir room after Rachel," Brittany said, laughing.

"I bet she'd love that," Santana said. "What 'bout us?"

Reaching over, she tapped one of the images, expanding it. It was a plaque that said 'Fabray-Lopez-Pierce Athletic Scholarship' and had several rows of names.

"Shorty gets a whole room and we share a scholarship?" 

Brittany shrugged. "They didn't name the room after her until Coach started the scholarship with the insurance money she got when we disappeared."

"So, the Schyster only did it to one up Coach?" Santana snorted. "That man is really something. How do you know all this?"

"I'm an awesome hacker now," Brittany said. "I found Coach's secret recordings that she uses to bribe people with."

"Can we listen to them?" Santana asked, grinning. "I bet they're a hoot! I wonder what she's got on the school board. They should have fired her years ago."

"Maybe later," Brittany said, as she finished adjusting her collar, on her awesome, if she said so herself, black spy uniform. "Let's go get Rachel and Quinn."

"No more sex?" Santana said, pouting as she followed her out of her room.

"Later," Brittany said, turning around and giving her a quick, thorough, toe curling kiss and a wink, before crossing the small alcove to Quinn's room. Pressing on Quinn's symbol, she said "Can we come in?" The door slid open and Brittany walked in, followed by Santana.

"Hey Q," Brittany said, to the other blonde sitting on her bed and reading something on her tablet. "We have a meeting."

"Formal uniform?" Quinn asked, eyeing the other two. She'd seen something similar to theirs in her closet earlier, in a dark blue, though she'd never worn it.

"Formal?" Brittany looked at herself and Santana. "No, this is the regular ship uniform. Kinda sexy, I think. They haven't given us the fancy ones. Yet."

"Okay," Quinn said, standing up and taking her uniform out of the closet. "What about Rachel?" she asked, standing in the bathroom doorway.

"Do Memories have regular uniforms?" Santana asked, frowning.

"I'm not sure," Brittany said.

"There weren't any Memories in any of my training simulations," Quinn said.

"Nor mine," Santana said. "I just recognized the symbol from an old story about the first space fleet."

"I'll get her," Brittany said. "Stay here," she said to Santana, pushing her down onto Quinn's bed. "And you go get dressed," she said, gesturing at Quinn. Quickly stepping out of Quinn's room, and ignoring Quinn's comment about her bossiness, she walked over to Rachel's door and pressed her door symbol, saying "Rachel? Can I come in?"

Rachel's door opened, and Brittany found herself engulfed in music. In the middle of her room, Rachel was dancing, singing along to the alien music, in a language Brittany didn't recognize. It wasn't the language she'd learned, though it seemed very familiar.

"Hey, Brittany, want to dance?" Rachel said. 

"Always," Brittany said, smiling. She watched her for a moment to get an idea of the steps before joining in. Dancing with Rachel was always fun, though in a completely different way from dancing with Santana. With Santana it was about sex, and love, and togetherness. Rachel danced from her soul, like she sang. It was always so pure and innocent, even if it looked sexy to onlookers. Santana would still get jealous when she saw them dancing together.

"You need to dress up," Brittany said, during a brief pause in the dance. "We have a meeting to go to. That's a little too casual," she said waving at the almost transparent, rainbow colored shift Rachel was no wearing.

"I don't think I have anything like that," Rachel said, waving at Brittany's clothes. 

"We can look," Brittany said, pulling her over to her closet and looking in it. "Huh. You have some pretty clothes, Rachel, but nothing like this. And Q and San said they've never seen a Memory in person."

"Which means?" Rachel asked, frowning, running her hand across the clothes in her closet.

"I think something simple? Some of these look very ceremonial or for fancy parties," she said. "I bet you would look sexy in this one," she murmured, pulling out something shiny.

"I don't think that's very meeting friendly," Rachel said, "unless the meeting was at a club." Brittany shook her head in disappointment.

"How about this one?" Rachel asked, pulling out a white, ankle length dress that seemed to shimmer, with rainbow trim and colorful buttons.

"That's good," Brittany said. "We can get you something more uniformish later if you want."

"I can get dressed by myself, if you want to go back to Santana," Rachel said.

"Awe," Brittany said, pouting. "Do I have to?"

"No, but I'm not putting on a show," Rachel said, blushing. "So, turn around." She wiggled her fingers, vaguely in a circle.

"Okay," Brittany said, turning around to face the door, only to discover that Santana and Quinn were outside peeking in. "Shh…" she whispered, holding a finger up to her lips.

"Looking hot there, Berry," Santana shouted into the room, causing Rachel to squeak and disappear into her bathroom.

"San, that wasn't very nice," Brittany said, glaring at her girlfriend and a blushing Quinn. "And Quinn, you should know better."

"She wants to be an actress," Santana said. "She can't be shy about changing in public."

"She's not us," Brittany said, shaking her hand at them. Turning around, she went up to the bathroom door and knocked. "Are you ready, Rachel?" she asked.

The door slid open, revealing Rachel in her new dress. "You look very nice, doesn't she guys?" Brittany said.

"Yup," Santana said, smirking.

"Yes," Quinn added, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "It's a pretty dress."

"Thank you, Quinn, Santana," she said.

"Great, now we can get to our meeting," Brittany said, ushering them into the hall.

"Brit? Who's this meeting with?" Santana asked.

"With a couple of the AI's," Brittany said.

"Why'd we get dressed up?" she asked. 

"What's that saying," Brittany said, "about first impressions?"

"Okay," Santana said, "but haven't we already met them?"

"Our AI needs us to make a good impression on the others," Brittany said. "She didn't say why."

"So, don't talk, Berry," Santana said.

"We won't need to talk," Brittany said. "They've seen our training records."

"Is that a good thing?" Rachel asked.

"I hope so," Brittany said. "If they don't like us they'll cancel the project."

"And we can go home?" Rachel asked eagerly.

"No, they'll just ice us until they have another project for us," Brittany said.

"Ice us?" Rachel squeaked.

"Calm down. She means 'suspended animation'," Quinn said. "They do that a lot. It wouldn't hurt. They know how to do it without killing brain cells."

"Way to cheer her up, Q," Santana said, sighing. "Don't worry Berry. There's no way they won't want us for this project."

"You know what it is?" Rachel asked.

"Me? Not a clue. But Brit and I are hot stuff! Of course they'll want us," she said.

"I'm surprised you and that ego of yours can even fit through this hall," Quinn said sarcastically.

"It warps around it," Santana said, winking at Brittany.

"Something here is certainly warped," Quinn grumbled, causing Rachel to laugh.

"Guys, we can talk about this later," Brittany said. "They aren't just going to 'ice' us when we aren't looking. They aren't like that."

"They're aliens," Santana said. "They don't think like us. They could be evil and we would never know it."

"They were created by the people we've been learning about," Brittany said. "Were those people evil?"

"No," Rachel said firmly. "They had their problems, because they believed in free will, so they had their villains, but they are the good guys. Were the good guys?" 

"Were and are," Brittany said. "There aren't any here, even on 'ice' but they're still out in the galaxy."

"Oh," Rachel said. "Is that why they need us? Because the real aliens are too busy?"

"I can't say," Brittany said. "I just know they aren't here, anywhere. They won't tell me anything until all four of us are ready."

"What about your new mad hacker skills," Santana said. "Couldn't you poke around and find out whats the what?"

"I tried," Brittany said. "But they taught me and know how to keep me out of their private things."

"Don't worry, Brit," Quinn said. "We'll impress them and get the job, and maybe then they'll let us go home."

"Yeah!" Santana said, though she didn't sound too sure of that. 


	8. The Job

They filed into a large room, and took seats at a large table, each sitting in the chair with their symbol. There were five other chairs with symbols around the table. On the wall at the head of the table were several video panels.

"Whose are those?" Santana asked.

"I don't know," Brittany said. There's only the four of us."

"Welcome," said their AI. The center panel at the front was covered in swirling colors as she talked. "This meeting has been called to assess preparedness for project YCTA."

"We're ready," Brittany said, the others echoing her.

"That is not your decision to make," a different voice said, as the panel to the left swirled.

"The Council believes additional planning time is required before a decision is made," a third voice said, this time lighting up the remain panel. "Why are there only four?" it asked.

"The full Nine are not required," the left voice said. "This is not an extinction level event, merely reclaiming an outpost that has fallen out of use."

"Why do we need any of the Nine for that?" the right voice said. "We can rebuild a simple outpost without them."

"The local situation requires familiarity with the culture and visible avatars," their AI said.

"But not the full Nine," the right voice said peevishly.

"We will return to reevaluate the plan," said the left voice. All three panels darkened, leaving them alone.

"What was that all about?" Quinn said.

"Planning is required," their AI said.

"Who are they," Santana asked, pointing at the empty chairs.

"That is irrelevant," the AI said. "Knowledge of the Nine will not assist in planning."

"Yes, but I would like to know also," Quinn said. "If we're part of the Nine, maybe we'll need whatever skills the other five possess."

Rachel coughed, catching the attention of the others. "I can tell you about the Nine," she said.

"Well, spit it out," Santana said.

"They are known as the Bolon Yokte Ku, the Nine Support Gods of the Underworld," Rachel said. "According to legend, they advised The People when they first ventured out into the Void thousands of years ago, before they split into the twelve clans. Each of the Nine was special in some way. There was the Memory, the Hands, the Shadow, and the Breath," she said pointing at each of them in turn. "There was also the Healer, the Weaver, the Teacher, the Mother, and the Peace."

"And in non-vague words?" Quinn asked. "Who were they really?"

"You all understand who the People are, correct?" Rachel asked. "They are the ancestors of our alien hosts. It's their language and culture that we've been learning. There were originally twelve clans who left their homes and traveled to other galaxies."

"Space Gypsies," Brittany said, excitedly.

"That's one way to look at them," Rachel said. "Except space can be a dangerous place so they had armies, and space navies to protect their people. Eventually, after wandering around for centuries, they attracted the attention of a sort of galactic empire, except not that organized. And this empire hired them as some kind of roving peacekeepers."

"What happened to them?" Santana asked, interested in spite of herself.

"They're still out there," Rachel said. "Each of the clans is responsible for protecting part of the empire."

"So, why aren't they here doing whatever the aliens want us to do?" Santana asked.

"No idea," Rachel said. "Unless it has something to do with the Lost People."

"Lost people?" Brittany asked, getting up and sitting in Santana's lap.

"At the very beginning, there were thirteen clans but they've lost one," Rachel said.

"How can you lose a clan," Santana said. "And that still doesn't explain the Nine."

"Each clan was led by a Council of Nine," Rachel said. "Those were the Nine, based on the old legends. The Memory was the record keeper, the memory of the people. The Hands was the head of the army, the Shadow was the head of the intelligence service, and the Breath was the head of each clan's space fleet," she said. "The rest? The Healer is obvious. The Weaver was in charge of clan business. The Teacher was in charge of training, the Mother was their religious leader, and the Peace is their internal peace keepers."

"I still don't get it," Santana said.

"Don't worry San, I do," Brittany said. "They need an army, a navy, spies, and someone to record everything we do."

"Oh," Santana said. "So, they want us to run a war? By ourselves?"

"Going to be a very short war," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"Are you going to explain it to us?" Brittany said, raising her voice. "We can't plan if we don't know what is really going on."

"Indeed," the AI said. "Your Santana is partially correct."

"Only partially?" Quinn said, laughing at the expression on her face.

"An ancient enemy is coming and your world is in its path and must defend itself," the AI said.

"And the four of us can stop them?" Rachel asked. "What about the clans? Isn't that what they do?"

"The twelve clans are unable to come to your assistance," the AI said.

"Too busy to answer the phone?" Santana asked snidely.

"They fight their own, similar battles against the Enemy," the AI said. "If they survive, they will come, but it has been projected that it will be too late. The closest would take a hundred of your years to travel here."

"That's a long way," Santana said. "So they're not even in the next galaxy over, are they?"

"Correct."

"What about your friends, the ones we just 'talked' to?" Brittany asked. "Can they help?"

"No," the AI said. "They are too distant to provide direct assistance."

"But they can tell us if our plan will work?"

"They must approve, yes."

"So, what's the plan?" Quinn asked. "What are our resources? Do we know anything about this enemy? How long do we have?"

"The Enemy shall reach this quadrant in a decade," the AI said. "All intelligence shall be made available."

"Plenty of time to build a fleet and train an army," Santana said. "All we need are factories to build things and troops. There wouldn't happen to be a shipyard here somewhere?"

"No."

"Where is here?" Rachel asked. "I don't think we were ever told."

"This facility has relocated to here," the AI said. The center panel lit up, showing a representation of their solar system. It zoomed in on a segment of space between Mars and Jupiter.

"That's a long way from home," Brittany said. "Why here?"

"Resources are available," the AI said. "Once the plan has been finalized."

"So, we can build ships?" Santana said.

"Correct."

"Who's going to fly them?"

"Your progeny," the AI said.

"Our what?"

"Descendants," the AI said. "Once the plan is approved, they will be grown in this facility and housed here until needed."

"I don't think I'm ready to be a mother," Rachel said faintly.

"You shall not physically grow them," the AI said. "Other methods will be used."

"Do we have time for that?" Quinn asked. "Shouldn't we be training people now?"

"This facility has been placed in a temporal bubble," the AI said. "There will be adequate time available."

"Nice to know, but we don't even have a plan yet!" Santana shouted. "Except you plan to grow people in vats! To fly machines we haven't built yet. Which is another detail. Who's doing the building?"

"This facility…" the AI began.

"This facility! Why do you need us? It does everything. I bet it sings too!" Santana said, shaking her head.

"This facility is not allowed to wage war," the AI said. "We can only assist. We can provide tools but cannot wield them."

"Well, that's stupid," Santana said. "You never answered. What is the plan?"

"The Lost Clan once inhabited your planet," the AI said. "We shall make use of their descendants."

"If they have descendants, why are they lost?" Brittany asked.

"They know nothing of their past," the AI said. "Our last contact with them was almost two thousand of your years ago."

"Show us," Quinn said.

The three panels changed. In the center the Earth appeared and gradually came closer. And closer, until it focused on vaguely familiar territory. In the other panels, stone buildings and carvings appeared.

"Where is that?" Rachel said. 

"Mexico?" Santana blurted out. "The Lost Clan are the Aztecs?"

"San, that looks like Cancun. Remember? We went there last year to visit your uncle. And we saw some of the Mayan pyramids," Brittany said. "We can go to the beach!"

"You have Mayan ancestors?" Rachel asked, clearly surprised.

"What's it to you?" Santana said.

"One of my ancestors traveled to Mexico and brought back a Mayan princess," Rachel said. "He died mysteriously after she gave birth to twin daughters."

"Those princesses were very hardcore," Santana said, smirking. "They didn't like being kidnapped. I bet she did him in."

"You could be right," Rachel said. "She left a diary, but no one in the family can read it."

"If the Lost Clan is Mayan, and that's the language we're using now, I bet you can read it now," Brittany said. "We'll just have to get our hands on it," she added with a smile.

"All of you have Clan blood," the AI said. "It was one of the requirements. The learning pods only work with Clan."

"How's that possible?" Quinn said. "Nobody in my family has ever said anything about ancestors from there."

"You mean, how did your white ass Puritan ancestors get some Mayan booty?" Santana said, laughing. "Wasn't one of your great grandfathers one of those robber barons? I bet the maid did it."

"Well, we can't ask now, can we," Quinn said grumpily. "Unless someone can do a family tree like they do in Harry Potter."

"What about Brittany?" Rachel asked. "Are we all related?"

"I don't have any Mayan ancestors," Brittany said.

"How can you be so sure," Santana asked. "Artie says we all have Clan ancestors."

"Artie?" Rachel said, scrunching up her nose.

"AI RT. Artie. Just go with it shorty. If she won't tell us her name we have to call her something," Santana said. 

"Artie is… acceptable," the AI said. "For now."

"See?" Santana smirked. "Answer the question Brit. How do you know?"

"Um…" Brittany looked at the others. "Well…"

"Just spit it out," Santana said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

"My parents weren't exactly from Earth," Brittany said, nervously squeezing her girlfriend's hand. "Sorry."

"I've met your parents, Brit," Santana said. "They might be a little weird, like hippy weird, but they seemed ordinary to me."

"You've never actually met my parents," Brittany said. "Those are my guardians. My parents died in an accident when I was really little, before you met me."

"That sucks," Santana said, pulling her over into a hug and a long kiss.

"Ewww!" Rachel said, before giggling at them.

"Can we keep the PDA's in the bedroom?" Quinn asked, blushing. Santana stuck her tongue out at her.

"Just because you aren't getting any, doesn't mean we can't," Santana said.

"So, your parents were from one of the other clans?" Rachel asked excitedly.

"I guess. My guardians never said anything about that," Brittany said.

"And the plan is?" Quinn asked, sounding slightly frustrated. "Artie?"

"You establish a presence here," she said, highlighting a large portion of Mexico.

"Why do we need to do that?" Santana asked. "Assuming we can even build a base, why not put it somewhere else, like on Mars or the moon?"

"Diplomatic protocol. And the area currently has a strong clan presence that needs to be re-educated and reintegrated." 

"Won't they object?" Quinn asked.

"Is this about the Return?" Rachel asked at the same time.

"Correct," Artie said. "The Lost Clan have legends that the Bolon Yokte Ku will return. We shall make use of that."

"Mayans, Mayans, mayans…" Quinn muttered. "What year is it, out there?"

"In your terminology it is 2012," Artie said. "The year of the Galactic Alignment."

"You know a lot about our world," Brittany said.

"We have been observing it for a number of your years," Artie said, sounding smug.

"So, why weren't you getting ready for this invasion before this?"

"The Enemy's path was unknown until recently," Artie said. "The Lost Clan was rediscovered many of your decades ago."

"And you were just sitting on this information?" Quinn asked.

"Sitting?"

"You knew and weren't doing anything about it?"

"We do not have the authority to interfere with one of the clans except in an emergency," Artie said.

"You aren't actually part of the Clans, are you?" Brittany asked, putting together everything she'd learned.

"Correct."

"Who are you then?" Brittany asked. "Who do you work for. Can we trust you?"

"I am the local representative of the Neo-Pan-Galactic Confederation," Artie said. "We merely observe."

"But you're not just observing," Rachel said. "You are providing aid."

"Under limited situations," Artie said. "The rules are complex. All instances of direct intervention must be approved in advance."

"So, let's make a good plan. What do we need to do?" Quinn asked.

"You will need several plans," Artie said. "In order - One - You must have a plan to create your forces. Two - A plan to secure the Lost Clan lands. Three - You must integrate the Lost Clan descendants into your forces. Finally, you must prepare for the Enemy and have a plan to defeat them."

"Do we have to do all of this now?" Santana asked. "Do we know enough?"

"Not even close," Brittany said, looking at her tablet. "I think we need to work on our occupation forces for Mexico. And I can't believe I just said that," she said, giggling.

"Not all of Mexico," Quinn said. "Shouldn't we just pick part of it? Bite it off in a smaller chunk? Artie, can you show us a map that shows where the Lost Clan descendants are concentrated?"

"Of course," Artie said.

"Really?" Rachel said. "How?"

"There is scanning equipment available in orbit. It will take several hours to generate a complete scan. Do I have your permission?"

"Sounds very Star Trek-ish. Go for it," Brittany said. "Is that how you found us?"

"In essence. Your profile stood out as Clan but not Lost Clan. Further research indicated the existence of non-local technology," Artie said. "And the presence of Lost Clan descendants in your vicinity."

"Sorry, guys," Brittany said, blushing.

"There was no way for you to know," Rachel said, glaring at the others. "I miss my Dads but maybe we can figure out some way to see our families when this is over."

"Brit, I haven't had so much fun, except for our sexy times, in ages," Santana said, blushing. "Not too happy at the whole family thinking we're dead thing but I wouldn't miss this."

"I didn't get along with my parents, and my sister moved out years ago," Quinn said. "I'd rather be here."

"Guys?" Brittany said, looking at her notes from past simulations.

"Yeah?" 

"Once we know the where, we need to decide the when, unless that is already decided. Artie?"

"The best date has been determined to be December 21st, 2012, by your calendar."

"Why does that sound familiar?" Quinn asked.

"Because you made us watch all those apocalypse shows on cable?" Santana said, grimacing. "It's the Mayan apocalypse."

Rachel giggled, and Brittany joined her.

"Oh!" Quinn said. "I guess we're going to make it come true. Sort of."

"Ya think?" Santana said. "We're gonna be a cliche."

"That wasn't the reason, was it?" Brittany said. "Artie?"

"There are forecasts for solar storms and possible seismic events in that area around that time," Artie said. "The social disarray and effects on local communication systems make it an ideal time to establish a foothold in the area."

"And all of the idiots camped out on old Mayan pyramids and temples?" Santana asked. "What do we do about them?"

"Planning," Artie said. "Your plan must account for all possible movements of persons in the area in question."

"And we need to take into account the reactions from the national players in the area," Brittany said. "Mexico isn't going to be too happy with us."

"Our government won't like it either. Or Cuba," Quinn said. "In fact, everyone is going to hate us."

"Except the same idiots waiting for an apocalypse," Santana said. "The ones waiting for aliens to save them from their boring lives are gonna love us."

"We'll have to put up some kind of quarantine to keep everyone out," Quinn said.

"What if people want to leave?" Rachel asked. "Won't there be a lot of people in the area we plan to claim for the Lost Clan?"

"Just a sec," Brittany murmured. "It really depends on how much space we need. Artie? In your research on reconstituting the Lost Clan, which we really need a better name for, how big an area did you consider?"

"This," Artie said. Looking up at the map of Mexico, they could see a section highlighted. "Your maps call it the Yucatan Peninsula."

"Yes! We do get to keep Cancun," Brittany said, getting up and dancing around the room. Her second time around she tried to take Santana with her but ended up in her lap.

"That's a lot of land," Quinn said. "How many people live there?"

"A couple million," Brittany said. "A little less after the tourists leave."

"And we're going to occupy it," Rachel said, gaping at the others. "The four of us?"

"Rachel, we'll have an army before we do that," Brittany said. "San will have her space ships, Quinn will have her army, and you'll keep people happy with tales of heroic ancestors to go with my propaganda machine. It'll work out."

"I hope you're correct," Rachel said, standing up. "Can we take a break? I need a break."

"Sure. We have plenty of time to work things out," Brittany said.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Quinn asked, after watching Rachel leave the room.

"She'll be fine," Brittany said. "She's just in shock. She doesn't have our training. Things like this are way outside her comfort zone."

"Should we continue without her?" Quinn asked.

"And have to listen to her complain about things because she wasn't part of the planning process?" Santana asked. "Do you want to risk that?"

"No."

"Nope."

"The Memory is fulfilling an important part of her role," Artie said. "She brings perspective, moderation, and insight into the minds of the Clan."

"Artie, that's Rachel, not 'The Memory'. She doesn't like being called a thing."

"Of course," Artie said. "Is it still correct to say 'The Quinn'? Or 'Your Santana' ?"

"It's just Quinn," Quinn said, shaking her head at Santana, who was laughing at her, her face buried in Brittany's hair. 

"When speaking with the others, it's just 'Santana'," Brittany said, blushing.

"I like being 'Your Santana'," Santana said. "It's the truth."

"But Artie doesn't need to call you that. And what about your fleet people, space sailors, when you get them. What are they going to call you?"

"Boss?" Santana said.

"Pain in the Ass," Quinn said. "Pita for short."

"HBIC," Santana said. "I'm a gonna be Head Bitch In Charge."

"Says who?" Quinn asked.

"Your Marines are part of my fleet," Santana said. "So you work for me. And Brit is my Intel Officer, of course."

"I don't think it works that way," Quinn said, frowning.

"No, it doesn't," Brittany said, firmly.

"Brit!" Santana said. "I should be in charge."

"We work together," Brittany said. "But we make it look like Rachel is in charge."

"What?"

"Why?" Quinn asked.

"Because she's a better actress," Brittany said. "And everyone needs to believe we're real. And she won't try to boss everyone around like you would."

"We're gonna be real," Santana said. "As soon as we build my ships."

"You'll see what I mean," Brittany said. "They won't want to mess with us because of your ships and Quinn's army but they'll talk with us because of Rachel."

"And what will you be doing?" Quinn asked her.

"Sneaking around behind their backs, picking their pockets," Brittany said, with a smirk. "They'll never see us coming." 


	9. Building an Army

"Explain this to me again," Rachel said, asking questions in another planning meeting. "Where are we getting our army and Santana's space people."

"We take genetic material from each of you," Artie said. "We then use your material to create descendants."

"Clones?" Rachel asked. "Will they have souls?"

"Clones?"

"Exact duplicates," Quinn said.

"I don't think I could take more of her running around," Santana said. "Let's just use the three of us." She pointed at herself, Brittany, and Quinn.

"No, not exact duplicates. That is prohibited," Artie said. "There are multiple combinations of offspring that can be created in this manner without this cloning."

"So, they will be our children?" Rachel asked.

"That is a social construct," Artie said. "We can produce children for you to nurture, in this manner, but that is not how it is normally done in the Clans."

"We can get back to that later," Rachel said faintly. "So, once you have the 'genetic material' what happens?"

"The genetic material is charted and suitable combinations are selected for different tasks. And then grown in sufficient quantities," Artie said. "The entities that survive the accelerated growth process are trained in the desired occupations."

"That sounds a bit cold hearted," Rachel said, frowning.

"It is not done often," Artie said. "But has proven successful in most cases."

"And what about souls?" Rachel asked. "You create people, but are they really people or just organic robots?"

"They have free will and have independent thought," Artie said. "This concept of soul is not one I'm familiar with."

"Rachel, let's just skip that one," Quinn said. "There's no way to know. This isn't Buffy."

"I don't want soulless clones of myself running around," Rachel protested, "doing evil things."

"Just drop it," Santana added, almost growling at her. "Is this going to create perfect soldiers and pilots?" she asked.

"Perfect? Meaning without flaws? No," Artie said. "There are rules. We can arrange combinations of traits to give extra weight to desired skills but we cannot improve on the original material."

"For example?" Quinn asked, curious.

"We can arrange for the traits of good vision and fast reflexes, by taking the best of these from the material we are given. But we cannot give the resulting descendants enhanced vision or speed beyond what you are capable of."

"I think I understand that," Rachel said. "Human, not super-human."

"How mentally stable will they be?" Brittany asked. "The human mind takes time to develop. If you're forcing them to grow faster than normal, don't you risk them being unstable?"

"No," Artie said. "They will grow and become fully aware in special learning pods."

"Oh, that temporal learning thing you did to us," Brittany said, nodding.

"There is nothing to worry about," Artie said. "We will use your recorded memories and the memories of the Clans as templates."

"Welcome to the Matrix," Santana said, sotto voce. "So these not-clones will live lives in some virtual world until they are fully grown and ready to go?"

"Correct," Artie said.

"If we must," Rachel said, frowning. "How do you know they'll follow orders afterward? Won't they be angry at us?"

"Do we get to see this world you'll create for them?" Brittany asked.

"If you wish," Artie said, sounding puzzled.

"Why do you want to do that?" Santana asked softly, out of habit since she suspected the AI could hear the faintest whisper.

"They need to know we care about them," Brittany said. "That they are family, even if they will seem like 'instant people' to us."

"Family, yes," Rachel said. "Definitely. Not children, but nieces and nephews."

"Female only," Artie said.

"Really? Why?" Rachel asked, the first one to get past their surprise at that pronouncement.

"The process only works reliably on female genes," Artie said. 

"Why?" Brittany asked.

"Forced growth is not compatible with male genetic material," Artie said.

"Not a problem," Santana said. 'We don't need 'em."

"Fine for you," Rachel grumbled. "You have Brittany."

"So, is incest a thing for you?" Santana asked her. "Cause, even if the mix-n-match was from all four of us, that person would still be a quarter your genetic material."

"Yikes..." Brittany said. "That's so not a good idea, Rachel. Sex with relatives is not something we want to encourage, even if they can't get each other pregnant. Non-clan wouldn't understand. Maybe we should have some kind of identification for genetic relationships?"

"We will consider that," Artie said. 

"How many will there be?" Quinn asked. "I'll need at least a regiment to secure the area. And Santana will need enough for her crews."

"And we'll need more than that," Brittany said, "Isn't the average ratio ten to one for supporting people in the field?"

"So, if Quinn needs a thousand soldier, we need ten thousand people in our family?" Rachel asked.

"It won't be that bad," Brittany said. "Some of those in Support will be part of Santana's Navy. And Quinn won't have a huge army, to start off with anyway. And eventually we'll have trained Lost Clan available."

"Your people shall become available in waves," Artie said. "As their roles and training dictate."

"Meaning?" Quinn asked.

"Officers first?" Brittany suggested. "Not everyone is going to be at the bottom of the pyramid. And it'll be total chaos if everyone shows up to work at once."

"What about my ships?" Santana asked. "Now that we've discussed crew, what about the ships."

"You're an impatient, annoying person, aren't you?" Quinn said, leaning back in her chair. "What's the rush?"

"She's just suffering flying withdrawals," Brittany said, sympathetically rubbing Santana's back.

"That's not it," Santana said. "Well, maybe a little bit. As soon as we have pilots I want them out there." She waved vaguely at the walls. "Learning how to fly the real thing."

"Construction on your flagship will begin soon," Artie said. "Infrastructure needed to be created first."

"You are following my plans," Santana said. "We need to be self sufficient once we leave here."

"Yes."

"What does that mean?" Rachel asked.

"The nanobots can create some amazing things," Santana said. "But we can't take them with us, they're a little too advanced to risk getting loose on Earth. So everything has to be repairable by my crews without their help. At least for the first couple years."

"Oh," Rachel said. "How are your preparations going, Quinn?"

"The mobile armor for my regiment is custom fitted so that can't start until I actually have people who can wear it. But we're stockpiling things we can make, like personal weapons. And several tanks and other small vehicles."

* * *

As they waited, impatiently in Santana's case, for the first of their grown clanswomen to complete their training, they spent time working on the next stage of their plans, trying to think of, down to the last detail, everything they would need to prepare for. None of them had planned a real operation like this before, just training simulations, so they wanted to get every detail right, to be ready for anything.

But now, what they really needed were their people, Clanswomen, doing their jobs.

"When will the first of them be ready," Rachel asked, worriedly. "I mean our Clan people. And where will they live?"

"They aren't redshirts, if that's whats got your panties in a twist," Santana said. 

"Redshirts?"

"You know, from Star Trek?"

"Never watched it," Rachel said. "What's a redshirt?"

"That's right, there's no singing on Star Trek," Santana said dismissively. 

"Expendable characters," Quinn said. "They were there so they could kill someone every week but not one of the regulars. Usually some security guard or ensign."

"Oh! No, none of our people are expendable, no matter where they came from," Rachel said. "We really need a better name for them."

"Hey You?" Santana said.

"San! That isn't very nice," Brittany said, poking her.

"Something. Houses? The Clans used to have family groups before they became the clans, based on the head of a Household," Rachel suggested.

"I can agree to that," Quinn said. "But how will we decide which House someone belongs to? There are millions of possible gene combinations."

"Keep it simple," Brittany said. "One for each of us. Even a sorting hat."

"Brittany," Santana said. "We aren't running Hogwarts."

"No, but we can still do it that way," Brittany said. "Artie can figure out a way to sort them and it'll all happen in the learning pods. Right Artie?"

"If you can explain the Sorting Hat concept, I will attempt to apply it," Artie said.

"Yeah!" Brittany said, jumping up and dancing around the room.

"So, when will we meet the first ones? And where will they all live?" Rachel asked again. 

"The first three cohorts will be ready in thirty days," Artie said. "Temporary living quarters are provided in the base until they are assigned."

"Temporary?" Rachel asked.

"We'll be living in my ships," Santana said. "All of my people have berths assigned to them. All of Quinn's troopers will also have their own berths on the troopships they are assigned to when they aren't on duty."

"What about the rest?" Rachel asked.

"Some will live dirt-side," Santana said. "The rest will live here. Someday we'll have a real base for them."

"Oh," Rachel said. "It doesn't sound simple. Who's keeping track of who lives where?"

"We have a fleet," Santana said.

"And?"

"It's like a government run city. It runs on paperwork," she said. "Once we have enough people in place, we'll take over those kinds of tasks from Artie."

"In triplicate," Quinn added, grimacing. "Everything we do is documented."

"That's the way the AI's work," Brittany said. "Our brains aren't hooked into their net so they make us shuffle paper to keep track of things."

"And now I've got a splitting headache just thinking about this," Santana said, standing up. "I'm going to go work off some of this stress. Coming Brit?"

"Do we get to go to their graduation?" Brittany said, nodding at Santana in agreement, taking her hand to pull herself up.

"If you wish," Artie said.

"Let's do it San. It'll be fun," Brittany said. "Like bonding."

"And an easy way to meet them before they start working for us," Rachel said. "This is going to be so exciting."

* * *

And then Graduation day came, and they prepared to drop back into the virtual reality created by the Learning Pods, something most of them hadn't done in months.

"I'd forgotten how much I hate using the Learning Pods," Rachel said, grumbling to herself, lying back in her pod, and waiting for it to fill with the oily goop.

She opened her eyes and found herself standing with the others in a large reception room. Brittany nudged her and pointed towards a large balcony.

"Come on Rach, let's check things out," she said.

"Where are Quinn and your better half?" Rachel asked.

"They're taking part in the ceremony," Brittany said. "A bunch of their officers are being commissioned."

"Don't you have people graduating today?" Rachel asked.

"A few but they don't know they'll be working for me, yet," Brittany said with a wink.

"Oh. So there wasn't any direct spy training?" Rachel asked.

"There are a few candidates I've been keeping an eye on," Brittany said. "Just like Quinn and Santana have been kept up-to-date on other candidates."

"I thought we weren't going to interfere in their growth," Rachel asked, stopping in front of the large glass doors.

"We haven't, but Artie has been keeping us in the loop on the more promising candidates. The ones that are at the top of their classes," Brittany said. "Let's go look at our family." Pushing open the large doors, she pulled Rachel out into the sunshine.

Looking out, Rachel saw an amazing sight. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of people, all women, here for this event. She wasn't sure of the numbers but it looked like the rows of people on the field were dwarfed by the audience in the stands.

"Who are these people?" she asked. "Are they real?"

"We have our graduating cohorts," Brittany said, waving at the uniformed rows on the field. "And the younger cohort members in the later classes." She waved at the stands.

"Wait, I thought they were all going to be the same age?" Rachel asked.

"No, we've discussed this. Remember? The learning matrix is generating our people in a staggered fashion. It's more efficient that way. And leads to visibly different ages."

"I wasn't expecting them to all be together. It's like a big virtual school," Rachel said.

"Yup," Brittany said. "Look, there's Santana," she added, pointing to a small group off to one side. "She's been waiting for her ship crews to finish school so she can put them to work and get her ships out there, doing their jobs."

"I find this whole temporal learning, Matrix environment very confusing as times," Rachel said. "It's only been months for us but they've gone from test tube to adult in that time."

"I try not to think about it myself," Brittany said. "It might make things easier, but trying to keep track of where everyone is in their timeline gives me a migraine. Fortunately, once all of our people are grown up and done with their pod training, we'll all be living in the same time stream. And no more confusion."

"Good," Rachel said. "Whatever happened to the Sorting Hat idea?"

"We'll see it today," Brittany said. "It's part of the graduation ceremony."

"Do you know how it works?" Rachel asked. "I asked Artie to explain it once and I didn't get it. Too much mumbo-jumbo."

"It's very scientific," Brittany said. "Based on all sorts of tests they take as they grow up. Personality, fitness, and intelligence. I'm using a variation to pick out the women I want for field agents."

"So, they've already been assigned to their Houses," Rachel said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"But they don't know it," her companion said.

"Do all the girls who make good soldiers go into Quinn's House? And all the space people in Santana's?" Rachel asked.

"No," Brittany said, to her surprise. "They really aren't clones. Don't forget that. They have different skills and abilities. Someone in your House can be a good warrior just like someone in Quinn's House could have the skills that make a good Memory."

"I understand that," Rachel said. "But sometimes I find it hard to grasp the idea that we started out with just the four of us and now we have our own clan and Houses."

"Don't forget, we will be rebuilding the Lost Clan. Eventually, they will be merged into ours."

"But different Houses," Rachel said firmly.

"Definitely," Brittany said. "Look! It's starting!"

* * *

"Where did they get their names?" Rachel asked in a low voice, even though they were too far away on their balcony for anyone to hear them. "Some of the names were exotic sounding and others fairly ordinary."

"I'm not sure. I think Artie assigned them. Or let them choose their own names. Let's ask. Artie?"

"Yes, Brittany," Artie said.

"Who named the children? I don't remember anything being discussed."

"Names are an important part of identity," Artie said. "They were given random names when they were old enough to communicate. Each has a unique name. When they are sorted into their Houses they are given the choice of picking a new name that has some meaning to them, though they are discourage from using certain names."

"Like what?" Rachel asked, listening as the new House affiliation was announced for each graduate as they crossed the stage, to great cheering.

"Lucy, Quinn, Fabray, Rachel, Barbra, Berry, Brittany, Pierce, Santana, and Lopez," Artie said.

"Really? They aren't allowed to use one of our names?" Rachel said. "Why?"

"Policy."

"Which means you don't know," Brittany said.

"I'm sure there's some good reason for the policy," Rachel told her.

"It's a millennia old organization. If there was a reason for that policy, they've forgotten it," Brittany said.

"We never forget anything," Artie said huffily. "In the Clans the Nine are expected to be unique. No others shall have their names."

"I can accept that," Rachel said. "Brittany?"

"I still think they don't know, but points for quick thinking," she said.

"Do they know who we are?" Rachel asked.

"They know you are the Nine, and what that means in the Clans."

"No, I meant do they know their relationships to us? That we're sort of their parents, not just their leaders."

"They know they are all descended from their Nine," Artie said.

"I can hear a 'but' in there," Rachel said. "What's the catch?"

"They are not aware of the closeness of the genetic relationship," Artie said.

"We're the Nine. They're descended from the Nine. What's there to not know?" Rachel asked, giving Brittany a puzzled look.

"They all have memories of parents," Artie said.

"And where are these parents?" Rachel asked. "Won't that cause problems when they want to write home about their great adventures?"

"They all think they are orphans," Artie said.

"All of them? How does that even make sense, unless you've messed with their minds," Rachel asked.

"Epidemic."

"Which means?" Rachel asked.

"They all died in an epidemic? Isn't that just cruel," Brittany asked.

"Would you rather we tell them?" Artie asked.

"Umm..." Brittany turned to Rachel.

Rachel frowned. "I don't know!" she shouted, stomping back into the room. "How am I supposed to know what to do? They should have been told up front."

"Are you sure?" Brittany asked.

"No," Rachel grumbled. "We never talked about this. We never talked about what we wanted all of these people to think about us."

"Hmm..." Brittany murmured. "Hey Rach, they want us out there."

"For what? I didn't hear anything?"

"We get to welcome them into our Houses," Brittany said. "Come on."

"I didn't know I'd have to make a speech!" Rachel said.

"Not a speech, just say hello," Brittany said, pulling her out of the room.

"I can do that, I think," Rachel said.

* * *

Rachel stared, wide eyed, at the rows of women. They looked older than she felt. And extremely athletic. She knew she was in the greatest shape of her life but some of them made her feel positively dowdy.

She wondered what kind of experiences they'd had, living in this virtual reality world. She hoped they wouldn't be too disappointed by the boring real world. Assuming they knew they'd been living in a fake world. Which was something to ask Artie. Later.

"Ladies, here are the heads of House Berry, and House Pierce," Quinn said, her voice carrying across the field. "As we told you, we are new to the idea of having our own houses but we are looking forward to working and living with all of you."

"Hi!" Rachel said, cheerfully. "Welcome to those of you in House Berry and everyone else. I hope to get to know all of you."

"Hey guys!" Brittany said. "The next couple of years are going to require a lot of work, so I hope you find your Houses to be places where you can unwind, take a load off, and be yourselves away from all prying eyes. Except mine," she added, to laughter. 


	10. The Plan

A week after the first graduation ceremony, Brittany cornered Rachel in the busy base dining hall.

"How are yours settling in?" Brittany asked. "Do you know all of their names yet?"

"I can recognize them all," Rachel said. "Haven't quite gotten all of their names down."

"It'll happen," Brittany said. "Before the next influx."

"Do we know when that will be?" Rachel said.

"Do you want to see the complete chart?" Brittany asked. "Of who moves out here and when?"

"We have that?"

"Of course," Brittany said. "San and Q are really getting into planning things up close and personal."

"But you aren't?"

"I'm planning," Brittany said. "But most of my work won't start until we invade."

"We're not invading," Rachel said, protesting, as she sat down. 

"It's not our land, and nobody is asking for our help," Brittany said. "Seems like we're invading to me. What do you want to call it instead?"

"It's a rescue... yes, a rescue," Rachel said. "We're rescuing the Lost Clan and then we're going to protect the rest of our corner of the galaxy from the invaders."

"You know the world governments aren't going to agree with us. They aren't going to be very happy."

"So, why don't we just tell them what will happen and give them all of our war tech?" Rachel said. "I'm sure they would be grateful," she said sarcastically.

"No, they wouldn't. They'd spend the next decade fighting over it and get wiped out when the Enemy really appears. I think our original plan is so much better. We have time to get them used to the idea so they won't interfere. Besides, our tech fu is better than theirs. They won't be able to stop us."

"Planning a coup, ladies?" Santana asked, slipping into the seat next to Brittany. "Shouldn't you check with us first?"

"It wouldn't be a coup then," Rachel said, sticking her tongue out at Santana.

"No, just a discussion of terminology," Brittany said. "You know Rachel."

"What exactly needs to be discussed?" Quinn asked, sitting on Brittany's other side.

"What exactly are we doing?" Rachel asked them. "Are we invading or are we swooping down out of the heavens and rescuing our lost Clan? Or is this something else?"

"Ah," Santana said. "You're doing that Memory thing, trying to turn this into something people will remember. Maybe Quinn should answer this, she's been thinking about it also. Calling this an invasion makes her queasy too."

"Gee, thanks Bitch," Quinn muttered. "Umm... it's kind of like one of those 'actions' during the Cold War. We go in, capture the part of the Yucatan that belonged to the Lost Clan. Set up a government for them. Set up our base. Get ready for the real invasion. We're basically doing a Search and Rescue in hostile territory where we have to wait out the enemy attacks."

"Okay, that's a different way of looking at it. But it still feels like an invasion of an unsuspecting society by a more advanced one," Rachel said.

"Don't worry about it," Santana said. "It's not like they can arrest you. You'll have diplomatic immunity as Clan Ambassador."

"Clan What?" Rachel squeaked. "I thought I was just the bard slash troubadour slash historian for this project?"

"Well, someone has to do it. I've got the fleet to keep an eye on," Santana said. "Once we're full staffed I won't have any time for that fluffy happy people nonsense."

"And I'll be busy with enforcing our plans on the ground," Quinn said.

"Brittany?" Rachel asked hopefully.

"Nope. Not me. No way," she answered. "You're perfect for the job. You'll have them eating out of the palm of your hand in no time."

"And you need to start being serious about your staff. You won't have a lot of minions, since Q and I need a bunch to fill our ranks but they need to be employed."

"Minions?" Rachel muttered. "What am I supposed to do with minions?"

"Couldn't tell you, shorty," Santana said. "Have them build churches or roads or something."

"Do we actually have a religion in the Clans?" Rachel asked.

"Isn't that something you're supposed to know?" Santana asked.

"Well, all of the Clans had their own gods they worshipped, but we haven't introduced them to our minions," Rachel said. "I'm not sure I want us to have a real religion."

"Your call," Quinn said. "And I can't believe I just said that," she grumbled.

"No Streisand worshipping," Santana said. "That's where I draw the line."

Rachel pouted at Santana's pronouncement. "Not even a little bit?"

"No!"

"I think we should be Donald Duck worshipers," Brittany said, winking at Rachel. "We can claim Disney Land as our Holy Land."

Rachel giggled. "And all of the Disney princesses can be priestesses," she added.

"We should probably adopt the Mayan gods, the non-bloodthirsty one," Quinn said. "It'll make it easier to integrate them into our clan."

"That's brilliant," Rachel said, jumping up out of her seat to hug her.

Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's burst of laughter.

* * *

"Explain this part of the plan to me one more time," Rachel said, poking Quinn in the shoulder to get her attention.

"You don't have to do anything," Quinn told her, "and, Ouch!"

"But I want to be ready in case you need me," Rachel said.

"It's really simple," Quinn told her. "Brittany's SpecOps crew sneaks down and sets up the Clan zone shield. When we're ready to go, we land teams in some of the abandoned Clan cities and turn on the containment shields and turn them into bases for us. We then take over the cities inside the main shield and start removing anyone who doesn't belong and set up local Clan governments. We then introduce ourselves to the world."

"It can't be that simple," Rachel said.

"Well, no, it isn't. That's the five thousand foot view. There's actually quite a bit more that must happen, some of which is happening now," Quinn said.

"Like what?" Rachel asked.

"Well, Artie is scanning everyone in the Clan Zone to get a good genetic scan so we know who is Clan and who isn't. Brittany's hackers are digging up as much information as they can find about who owns the land and other property in the Zone. They'll then cross match it against Artie's scans."

"How?"

"No idea," Quinn said. "One of those magic Intelligence ops things, I suspect. Brittany is really good at taking lots of random data and turning it into useful information."

"Has she always been like that?" Rachel asked. "She seems to be a completely different person here than she was in school."

"I don't know," Quinn said, leaning back against the cushion. "Santana always claimed that Brit was a lot smarter than she acted but I never saw it, until now."

"Well, I'm impressed," Rachel said. "I'm just glad she's on our side."

"Oh yeah," Quinn said in agreement. "Santana seems to have a knack for managing the Fleet, and I'd like to think my troopers are in good hands, but if we didn't have Brittany we wouldn't have a chance."

"Hey! What about me?" Rachel said.

"What about you?" Quinn asked.

"Don't I have an important role in all this?"

"Not yet," Quinn said. "Once we've secured the Zone, and removed all of the extra people, we'll definitely need you to do the whole communication thing to get everyone in the Lost Clan on our side. That is important but we could still accomplish our main goals without you."

"Gee, thanks," Rachel said, flopping down on the floor next to her cushion. "I feel really wanted here."

"Sorry, it's the truth."

"What happens when Brittany combines Artie's scans with her own data," Rachel asked, deciding to move on.

"Well, I think we should pay the people who own things in the Zone if we kick them out. Santana doesn't want to become a landowner but she doesn't think the people who stole the land deserve to profit from it." Quinn shook her head. "She's still carrying a grudge against the Conquistadors. But we can't just take it away if we want to avoid government entanglements."

"Who do we have to pay?" Rachel asked.

"Lots of people," Brittany said, joining them in the room. "Anyone who owns land but isn't clan should be paid for it. That means, hotels, restaurants, stores, anything like that. And there are several cities. We'll have to work out deals with all of them. And the Mexican government. They aren't going to be too happy about our land grab. And that's just the beginning. It's going to take years to settle any legitimate claims."

"Oh," Rachel muttered.

"We also have to do something about the airports and docks. The whole thing is really complex. And, we need to keep the people fed, and find a way for the Clan's people to be self-sufficient."

"I'm not sure where we're going to get money to pay any of them with," Quinn said. "Or pay people after we take over the businesses their businesses depend on."

"Gold, of course," Brittany said, flopping down next to Quinn.

"Where are we going to get enough to do that?" Rachel asked.

"We're sitting in the middle of an asteroid field," Santana said, sitting down and pulling Brittany onto her lap. "I've got a crew out there now, searching for all sorts of precious metals, some for us and some to use for money."

"Oh," Rachel said, perking up. "Will there be any gems?"

"I'm not a planetologist, but Artie said not to expect anything like that. The conditions just aren't right for that kind of thing. But we already have a ton of gold."

"How much?" Brittany asked, pulling out her tablet.

"A ton," Santana said. "It wouldn't be worth a whole lot if we just dumped it on the market, but we can use some of it for other things."

"Like what?" Rachel asked.

"Decorations," Santana said. "The Lost Clan descendants were really into decorating with it."

"According to the few records I've found about them, the Lost Clan had several tons of the stuff on their ships when they disappeared," Brittany said.

"And then the Spanish showed up, and wondered where they'd gotten it?" Quinn asked.

"Yup. It was all downhill from there," Brittany said. "All sorts of uncivilized nastiness."

"So, we aren't just going to squat on the land?" Rachel asked, standing up and pacing.

"We could," Santana said. "I don't think anyone could stop us. Even the US Air Force doesn't have true space capability. I could wipe out everything in orbit in seconds."

"My girls aren't quite so powerful," Quinn said, "but it would take a large nuke to stop them when they're suited up."

"Where did you get the idea for the armor suits your troopers wear?" Rachel asked. "I don't recall seeing anything like them being used by any of the Clan armies in the past."

"Well, the Clans wear bulky armor suits designed for their male troopers," Quinn said, pointing at a figure that appeared on the room's view-screen. "They started out bulky and stayed that way even though there was no reason for it as their tech advanced. We could use the same design but since we didn't have to, I found a design I liked better."

"They do look familiar," Brittany said. "And distinctly feminine."

"This would be where somebody's hidden geek side comes out," Santana said, laughing at a blushing Quinn. "She's dressed her troops up in hard suits from Bubble Gum Crisis. Artie? Could you pull up some still from that show?"

"Yes," Artie said. Several colorful figures in armor appeared next to the old Clan combat suits. "The hard suits displayed here were fairly easy to duplicate," she said. "A number of improvements were made that allow the wearer to stay in them for a longer duration."

"Which is a good thing," Quinn added, still blushing. "The power can last for up to a month of continuous use, though for practical purposes they shouldn't be worn for more than a week straight. And they're very durable. I don't think anyone wearing one could take on Iron Man but they won't have any problems with current Earth combat tech."

"Do we get hard suits?" Brittany asked. "I'd like mine in neon pink."

"You already have your stealth combat suit," Quinn said. "These aren't really meant to replace specialized enviro suits like that."

"But these look like so much fun," Brittany said, pouting.

"Anything else you want?" Santana said, shaking her head.

"Yeah! I'd like one of those air bikes!" Brittany said. "We need to set up a track and then we can have races."

"If Brittany gets her track, I want my own theater," Rachel said.

"Guys! What about the job?" Santana said. "Doesn't that come first?"

"If we can't have fun, why are we doing this?" Brittany said. "We aren't getting paid. But I can wait. At least we'll have the beach at Cancun."

"As soon as we deal with all the tourists," Quinn said. "And our families."

"I thought our families were safe," Rachel said.

"Brittany has a plan," Santana said.

"Yeah, and it's a doozy," she said, perching on the table. "At some point, we know that the Earth governments will find out who we are."

"We do?" Rachel said.

"Yup. I know we look a little different, older and sexier, but at some point they will see us and make a connection. It might take a while but it will happen. So, to avoid the inevitable attempts to blackmail us, I've figured out a way to proactively deal with this issue." Brittany smirked. "I've sent a message to my guardians, using standard family codes so they know it's me. I've asked them to move to Cancun as soon as possible, meaning before we put our plan in action."

"What about everyone else's family?" Rachel asked.

"Prizes," Brittany said. "We buy a hotel, I know just the one, and award them vacations as part of a 'Grande Reopening'. No one will suspect a thing."

"My parents won't go for that," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"Well, we can always kidnap them and put them on 'ice'," Santana said. "I know you don't really like them but do you really want them arrested by some secret government black ops squad and used against us?"

"Well, no," Quinn said. "But how deep do we go? Just our parents? Aunts and Uncles?First cousins?"

"You're making a simple plan too complicated, Quinn," Brittany said. "Parents and siblings should be enough."

"What about my mother?" Rachel asked. "Do we include her? And what about the Gleeks?"

""No, no, and no!" Brittany said, loudly. "Parents and siblings. So your mother? Yes. None of us have any secret children, do we?"

"No."

"No."

"Dodged that bullet," Quinn said, grimacing at an ancient memory.

"So, are we all happy?" Brittany asked. "Can I put this plan into action?"

"Go for it," Santana said. "What are you so happy about, Shorty?"

"I'll get to see my Dads," she said.

"Rach, it isn't going to be that simple," Brittany said.

"I don't care!" Rachel said, picking up her tablet. "I can't wait to show them all of these new songs and plays."

"So Q, already planning the joyous reunion with the Stepford family?" Santana said, poking her.

"Would it be bad if I said no? And hope they don't come?"

"I've met your parents. So, no." Santana shook her head. "Okay gang, do we have any other important topics? No? Good. I've got a mock battle between Red and Blue flights to oversee." Nodding at them, she stood up, pulling Brittany along with her. "Come on Brit, you can help."

Quinn shook her head, watching them leave. "Anything else you wanted to discuss?" she asked Rachel.

"Nope," Rachel said. "I need to start planning for our celebration."

"Celebration?"

"Yes, celebration. I think everyone deserves a party after we rescue the Lost Clan," Rachel said. "On the beach."

"If you say so," Quinn said. "It might do morale some good."

"Your troopers aren't happy?" Rachel asked. "They seem to be very eager to start whenever I talk to any of them."

"Happy? Mostly, but they are a bit stressed. None of them have seen any real action, so they're a bit nervous."

"Neither have we, Quinn," Rachel said.

"That's different," Quinn told her. 

"How?"

"It just is," Quinn said.

Rachel nodded, though she didn't really agree. Quinn could be very prickly if challenged. 

"I think I'd like one of those suits, also," Rachel said, with a straight face.

"Do you know how to use one?"

"It can't be that hard," Rachel said. "I think neon pink and yellow."

"Do you know how long my girls spend learning how to use their hard suits?" Quinn asked.

"No. But I can learn it in the pods. That'll give me plenty of time."

"Yes, you could do it that way but what about your projects?"

"You said my things aren't important," Rachel said. "So why don't I learn something that is important?"

"Argh!" Quinn shouted. "You're just being difficult!"

"Better difficult than useless," Rachel said.

"I didn't mean you were useless," Quinn said. "We just need your skills at a different point."

"It doesn't always feel like that," Rachel said. "Why can't I do exciting things also?"

"Artie? Help me out here," Quinn said.

"Early Memories went into battle with their clans," Artie said. "They were trained in all forms of personal combat. One famous Memory, Arktorous of the White Hills, could out-fly every pilot in the fleet."

"Not helping!" Quinn said. "Why did they stop allowing Memories to go into battle?"

"In the Battle of Corin's Reef, the Senior Memory, Talon, and his two apprentices were lost when a Purple Horde lightship collided with the shuttle they were traveling on. The clans agreed to never send a Memory out into a situation like that again."

"We aren't fighting the Purple Horde," Rachel said. "In fact, they've been extinct for over a thousand years. They were wiped out after that battle."

"That's not the point," Quinn said. "A Memory isn't just the Clan version of a bard. They are keepers of the culture of the Clans. I know we aren't quite a clan yet, with our instant minions and the Lost Clan having no idea who they really are. But we need to be by the time the Enemy reaches this part of the galaxy."

"But I don't feel important," Rachel said. "I'm just the song and dance person."

Quinn shook her head. "I want to show you something," she said. "Artie? Can you put up yesterday's training session?"

"Yes, Lady Quinn," Artie said.

"Lady Quinn?" Rachel said. "Does that make me Lady Rachel?" she asked, giggling.

"Not my idea," Quinn said. "My girls felt I needed a fancy title."

"If you say so," Rachel said, winking at her. "What did you want to show me?"

"Watch this," Quinn said, pointing at the screen. The screen filled with a group of Quinn's troops in their hard suits. 

"What are they doing?" Rachel asked, mystified by what she was seeing.

"Dancing," Quinn said. "That's from a dance you taught some of the girls in your House."

"Dancing in their armor?" Rachel said, surprised.

"Yes," Quinn said. "Watch how they move. They've taken your dance, and used it to train with. Before they did this, they were having problems adjusting to the suits. They were awkward. But adding your dance moves? Something just clicked for them. And it makes them better. More fluid."

"Wow!" Rachel said, staring at the screen. "I know martial arts are a form of dance, but I've never thought of it being used in this way."

"It's a good thing," Quinn told her. "I don't recommend teaching Santana's comm specialists to sing on the job, she wouldn't be happy with that, but your skills apply in so many other places. You don't have to go into combat with us to help."

"I don't know. A little music might be a good thing," Rachel said. "It could be a secret code."

"Why do I even try?" Quinn said.

"Because I'm cute, and you know it," Rachel said, grinning at her. "What are you doing for dinner?"

"I was just going to get something in the mess," Quinn said. "We're working on night maneuver protocols. And you have no idea what that means..."

"No," Rachel admitted. "Why don't you explain over dinner," she said, standing up. "I'm sure it's something exciting."

"Actually, it's not," Quinn said. "But we can do dinner."

"Great!" Rachel said. 


	11. Troop Inspections

"Yes, Esmay, what can I do for you?" Quinn asked, looking up at one of her sergeants.

"Hey Boss, some of the girls are wondering about leave," the skinny redhead said. "Now that they are out of the pods, they'd like to spend some time on the beach."

"Once we've secured the Zone, we can work that out," Quinn said. "We'll probably do some kind of lottery so everyone has a chance."

"Okay."

"Anything else?"

"The new hard suits are back from Fleet with the weapons upgrades," Esmay said. "They recoded them in boring tan camouflage, just like you predicted."

"And?" Quinn asked.

"Master Tech Jantel says she can have them back to the requested profiles in a couple hours."

"So, they didn't lock the profiles?"

"Not against Jantel," Esmay said, smirking.

"Okay," Quinn said. "Tell her I'd like her report as soon as she can get it done so I can take it upstairs."

"Yes, ma'am," Esmay said. Saluting, she pivoted and left Quinn's office.

"Does Santana know her techs are playing games?" Brittany said, phasing into view.

"Yes," Quinn said. "She's actually encouraging them, within certain limits."

"Do you want me to talk to her about this?" Brittany asked.

"No, it's just a little bit of fun," Quinn said. 

"If you say so," Brittany said. "But if this interferes with preparations for the next stage, I'll talk with her."

"It shouldn't be necessary," Quinn said.

"So, how did dinner with Rachel go?" Brittany asked.

"It was dinner," Quinn said, giving her a puzzled look. "What else would it be?"

"Did you have fun?"

"I guess," Quinn said. "Why?"

"No reason," Brittany said. "She was feeling left out. We are all very busy getting ready for the invasion and she doesn't have a lot to do until we've secured the Zone."

"We discussed that," Quinn said. "Her input is important, she just didn't realize it."

"She is kinda adorable when she gets that scrunched up look on her face," Brittany said. "Don't tell Santana I said that," she added, giggling.

"No telling Santana that Rachel is adorable. Got it."

"Are you having dinner with her again?"

"Not sure," Quinn said. "When she's not being obnoxiously controlling she's not half bad."

"I think you should," Brittany said. "It'll do both of you good."

* * *

"Santana?" Rachel said, wandering into Santana's office.

"Yes, Berry?"

"Your fleet is very organized," Rachel said. "How did you do it, starting from scratch like you did?"

"Some of us just have the touch," Santana said, buffing her fingernails on her overalls.

"Doesn't Quinn have it also," Rachel said. "Her troopers seem to know what they are doing."

"Q? She and her bunch of over-enthusiastic armored cheerleaders have it easy. We drop them on their target, they throw around some explosives, and then come home. Easy peasey. It's nothing like building and organizing a Fleet from scratch."

"Is that really how you feel about them?" Rachel said, aghast.

"Of course not," Santana said, grimacing. "But Q works better when expectations are a bit skewed. If I told her how much this whole thing is going to hinge on the performance of her girls and that I think her training is just right, she wouldn't believe me."

"Oh. How long have you and Quinn been friends?"

"I'm not sure 'friends' is the correct word," Santana said. "We've always challenged each other and back at McKinley things could get pretty vicious."

"You seem to be getting along now," Rachel said.

"Because we both have what we want. I have Brit, and this small fleet of spaceships and their finely tuned crews. Quinn has a group of girls who look to her for guidance because she's just as good as they are. That matters."

"Huh. I've noticed her perfectionism but now that you mention it she really does seem to need a team to function," Rachel said.

"Enough bullshit," Santana said, slapping her desk. "What really brings you to my little corner of this rock?"

"How does your relationship with Brittany work?" Rachel asked, nervously. "Do you really agree on everything?"

"Of course not," Santana said. "We both like to get our own way but we've figured out how to do that without fighting. And Brit is very smart. She usually figures things out before we start to yell at each other."

"I'm not sure how to ask this," Rachel said nervously. "When I see the two of you together, there just seems to be a natural fit. How'd you do that?"

"You've seen how flexible Brit is, haven't you?" Santana said, smirking. "Quinn isn't quite so flexible, but if she doesn't do it for you, there are over a hundred women, that you aren't related to, and who aren't in your House, who would gladly get their freak on with you."

"What?"

"It takes a huge amount of squinting, but I can see you and the Q getting it on," Santana said. "That's what you wanted to know, right?"

"No," Rachel said, blushing.

"Why not?" Santana shook her head. "Quinnie might be an acquired taste, but so are you."

"I don't want to distract her from her job," Rachel said defensively.

"But bopping in here and distracting me is okay?" Santana said.

"You can handle it," Rachel said.

"Damn right!" Santana said. A knock distracted her. "Yes?"

A tall brunette stuck her head in Santana's office. "Dragon Flight is ready for inspection," she said.

"I'll be right there in a minute," Santana said to her.

"Yes, ma'am," the brunette said, winking at Rachel before disappearing.

"Exhibit A," Santana said, pointing at the door. 

"Umm..." Rachel stammered, blushing.

"You have options," Santana said. "Just because we're all 'No dicks allowed' doesn't mean you can't sample what we do have."

"I couldn't do that," Rachel said.

"It's not like you are in anyone's chain of command," Santana said. 

"I've got my own minions," Rachel said, frowning.

"And none of them have operational responsibilities," Santana said. "So what you do with any of them won't affect our goals."

"Have you?" Rachel asked. She blanched at the expression of Santana's face. "Sorry, I know you wouldn't do that to Brittany."

"And don't forget it," Santana said, glaring at her. "I know you and Quinn had that whole passing around of boyfriends thing back in high school, but Brit and I are solid."

"Sorry."

"Come along," Santana said, getting up from her desk and grabbing her uniform top.

"Where are we going?" Rachel asked, following her out of her office.

"Introducing you to a widening sphere of positive influences," Santana said.

"What?" Rachel said, following her into a lift.

"Dragon Flight has some of the hottest pilots in the Fleet," Santana said.

"I don't want a hot pilot," Rachel said. "I don't want anyone right now."

"Your loss," Santana said, stepping out of the lift.

Rachel followed her out into a large, cavernous room. A long row of of pilots stood in front of a row of fighters, that Rachel vaguely recognized from a presentation Santana had given several weeks ago. She hadn't understood much of the presentation, but she'd been impressed by how impressed Quinn and Brittany had been by them, so she assumed they were awesome machines.

As Santana entered, the pilots snapped to attention. Rachel stood to Santana's left, and the brunette from earlier stood to her right.

"Ladies, looks like you're in luck," Santana said. "Lady Berry, Clan Memory, has joined us."

Rachel blushed at the whispers, and whistles, that broke out.

"Attention," the tall brunette, shouted. "On your own time, Ladies."

Santana looked at Rachel and whispered, "See? Changed your mind?"

"No," Rachel said, her eyes skipping over the pilots. "Do they fly as well as they look?"

"At least," Santana said. "All of my people are good at what they do. The way they look is just a bonus."

"They did come from us," Rachel said. "Would you expect anything else?"

"Well, I was a bit stumped by all the short engineers on my ships," Santana said, smirking at her outraged expression. "But apparently, whatever makes you an excellent Memory, is just the thing for an outstanding engineer."

"Really?" Rachel said, smiling. "Can I meet some of them?"

"Let's finish this first," Santana said. "Okay?"

"Oh. Sorry. Carry on," Rachel said.

"Thanks," Santana said dryly.

* * *

"They're very impressive," Rachel said, watching Dragon Flight as they flew in formation.

"I won't say it's luck," Santana said, "because too many of them are better than the average Clan pilot. Whatever the AI's did with our genes, they grew into some awesome people."

"Do you think we'll be able to do it?" Rachel said. "Really bring the Lost Clan back? And be ready for the Enemy?"

"With people like these?" Santana said, waving at the screen as Dragon Flight engaged in acrobatics. "We have a good chance."

"Good," Rachel said.

"Ready to meet some engineers?" Santana asked, as the last fighter disappeared from the screen.

"Yes!" Rachel said, excitedly.

"Artie?"

"Yes, Lady Air?"

Santana grimaced. "Could you pass the word to Head Engineer Pell that Berry and I would like to meet with her and her crew? We'll use the meeting room near her office."

"Yes, Lady Air."

"Lady Air?" Rachel asked, eyebrow raised.

"It's a thing," Santana told her. "The Head of the Fleet is traditionally the 'Lord of the Air' but, as you can see, I'm better than a dude, so Artie compromised."

"Ah. It's very fitting," Rachel said. "Who's Pell?"

"Well, as great as I am, I can't do everything. So, I've got Pell to keep an eye on all of the ship engineers. Sort of like Quinn runs the ground troops, Pell is Head engineer. It's an important job."

"Makes sense," Rachel said. "A Clan is a very complex thing. It's not just the people but our ships and equipment, and tools."

"I know I'm not the sensitive sort," Santana said. "But how do you really feel about your role in this whole thing?"

"You mean, the 'Yucatan Job'?" Rachel said. Santana tilted her head in confusion. "That's what one of my assistants calls it. She's been watching old movies about heists. She sees this as a great adventure where we're pulling this fantastic con."

"That's an interesting interpretation," Santana said. 

"Well, as the squeaky clean, and moral center of this operation, I'm reserving judgement," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "Early clans were seen as something like gypsies by some elements in the Galactic governments so there is some precedent."

"Interesting," Santana said, "but you're avoiding my question."

"It's exciting, but I do wish I had a more active part. I'm not upset that a large part of my role is to make sense of this whole thing for future clan generations but I need some action sometimes to feel useful," Rachel said.

"We'll have plenty of it soon," Santana said. "But first, we've got a meeting to get to," she said, going to the door. 

"Yes, I can't wait to meet some of your wonderful engineers," Rachel said.

The door opened to Brittany and Quinn standing there. "Where are you going?" Brittany said, looking at them.

"Rachel wants to meet some real spacers," Santana said. "Do you want them to come along?" she asked Rachel.

"They won't think they're being ambushed?" Rachel asked anxiously. "With all four of us showing up?"

"Nah, these are engineers. They make Quinn's troopers look like pussies," Santana said.

"You didn't just call my girls pussies," Quinn growled.

"Calm your tits, MacArthur. Are you coming with us or not?" Santana said.

"Yes," Brittany said, grabbing Quinn's arm. "Let's go. Where are we going?"

"Down to Engineering," Santana said.

* * *

"Hey Pell," Santana said, walking into the large conference room, Brittany, Rachel, and Quinn in tow.

"Hey Boss," Pell, a short blonde, said. "What's up?"

"Someone wanted to meet you and your gang," Santana said, waving at Rachel.

"Oh!" Pell said. She turned and gestured to a large group of women, some grimy, some looking hastily scrubbed, all approximately the same height, bringing them forward. "It's an honor," she said. "Right?" she said to her crew.

"Yup!" they all shouted. Surging forward, they all crowded around Rachel.

"Ever feel like no one knows you're there?" Quinn asked Santana as they learned against the wall, watching Rachel, Brittany by her side, as she chatted excitedly with the engineers.

"No," Santana said, nodding at Brittany, who turned and gave her a smile.

"What's the deal with all of the Rachel clonettes," Quinn asked quietly.

"Turns out, Berry's brand of OCD craziness makes for some of the best engineers the Clans have ever seen," Santana said.

"Huh. Didn't see that coming," Quinn said. "But why are they all short?"

"No idea. Maybe the craziness gene and the short gene go together?"

"I wonder if any of our genes are like that?" Quinn asked.

"You mean, dominating some job?" Santana asked. "Like Berry craziness equals tough wonder space engineer?"

"Yes," Quinn asked, glancing back at Rachel for a moment.

"No idea, but I bet Artie knows, and Brittany probably noticed long before Artie," Santana said. "Artie?"

"Yes, Lady Air?"

"Can you answer that?" Santana asked. "Did we end up with any other overachievers from our gene pool?"

"Lady Berry's descendants were an unexpected surprise," Artie said. "The others are more evenly distributed across the different Fleet occupation."

"So, no legacy for any of us, except for Rachel," Quinn said. "Our gene pools are ordinary."

"Yours might be, but mine isn't," Santana said. 

"All of the resulting descendants are excellent in their chosen professions," Artie said. "There are no... duds... as you would say. But the three of you, Lady Air, Lady Quinn, and Lady Brittany, are well matched to your Clan roles as part of the Nine. Your descendants are equally well matched to the needs of the Clan Fleet. Some are better pilots, some combat specialists, and others command and control specialists, even several excellent cooks, but the distribution is widespread."

"We get it," Santana said. "There's something special in the Berry genes that makes for engineers. She does seem to be happy with this, doesn't she."

"Yes," Quinn said. "Look at them. They really seem to like her. It's definitely going to help her morale." 

"Shall we see what they're up to?" Santana said. "Before Berry's ego explodes all over the place."

"I think I'll stay here," Quinn said, not moving. "You can go schmooze with the not-clones."

"Your loss," Santana said, pushing herself up straight. Straightening her uniform, she sauntered over to Brittany's side. "How's it going babe," she said.

"It's like a gaggle of Rachels," Brittany said. "They all talk like her, even if they don't look exactly like her."

"I think this makes Quinn nervous," Santana said, laughing. "She can almost handle one Rachel. Twenty of them? Not so much."

"But they're so cute. Admit it, you like them," Brittany said.

"They do have a certain charm," Santana admitted. "And they do a good job. Somehow we lucked into having our own female Scotty. Many of her."

"But much prettier than an old Scotsman," Brittany said, giggling.

"Go grab the midge," Santana said. "Let's take her to dinner. One of the Quinns has been experimenting with some Yucatan dishes to familiarize our people with the food the Lost Clan eats. She makes an awesome tamale. She's been working on cochinita pibil this week. It's almost as good as my aunt's."

"Okay," Brittany said. Turning, she waded back into the crowd to get Rachel. "Ladies, we need to get going." There was a mass sound of disappointment

"I'll be back," Rachel said, in response to their reaction. 

"I'm sure you can visit some other time," Brittany added.

"Where are we going?" Rachel said, as Brittany guided her out of the conference room behind Santana.

"It's dinner time," Santana said. "Don't know about you but I'm hungry."

"A little something would be nice," Rachel said. "I missed lunch today."

"Are you still sticking with your vegan diet?" Quinn asked, hurrying up to keep pace with them.

"Yes," Rachel said. "Not much variety but there are better options here than back home."

"Rachel, we've got some great cooks. I'm sure one of them can work with you to make something you like," Quinn said. 

"You're just saying that because they come from your genes," Santana said.

"San," Brittany said, "sharing is a good thing."

"Sharing?" Rachel asked, giving her a puzzled look.

"Her favorite cook is one of the Quinns," Brittany said. "She's just afraid someone will try to steal her."

"One of the Quinns?" Rachel asked, puzzled, glancing at Quinn.

"She looks like Quinn, but taller," Brittany said. "She makes some really delicious food. That's where we're going now."

"And, unlike Q here, she follows orders," Santana said.

"Does she have a name?" Rachel asked.

"Master Chef Romana," Santana said. "Though she prefers to be called Fred."

"Fred?" Rachel looked at Santana, almost tripping as she did so.

"I don't get it," Brittany said, "though San laughed for an hour when she found out."

"Giving them all access to Earth entertainment. Whose idea was that?" Quinn asked.

"Artie believed it would be a good idea for our people to have some understanding of Earth culture through some examples of our entertainment," Brittany said.

"It does lead to some amusing things happening," Santana said.

"I'm not sure she picked the right kinds of entertainment," Quinn said. "And what about language issues?"

"All of the shows were translated," Brittany said. "Though not perfectly."

"Some of it's hilarious," Santana said. "Though, Star Trek just doesn't translate right. And the girls don't really get Kirk."

"Yeah," Brittany said. "Men being in charge? They find that confusing."

"The Lost Clan weren't supposed to be all female," Rachel said. "None of the Clans were. How are we going to explain this matriarchy thing we have going to them?"

"I don't think they'll be too upset," Quinn said. "If they join with us, they'll have their own country again."

"Is there any doubt?" Rachel asked.

"I've been researching current Lost Clan, Yucatan Mayan, culture," Brittany said. "I'm still not sure how it's going to go. Might be rough at first."

"We'll find out soon enough," Santana said. "We're almost ready to go." 


	12. Invasion

"Ready?" Brittany said, straightening her uniform blouse.

"Maybe?" Rachel said. "Why do I have to lead this?"

"Because," Santana said. "So, get out there."

"You're the embodiment of our leadership," Quinn said. "You'll do great."

"I'm the embodiment?" Rachel said. "When did that happen? I didn't vote for that."

"San is Fleet, Quinn is the Ground Forces, and nobody needs to know what I do," Brittany said. "That just leaves you. Beside, they all love you and words of encouragement before we go into battle is your thing."

"My thing?" Rachel said. "Really?"

"Yes, so get out here," Santana said, giving her a push.

* * *

Standing at the podium, Rachel looked out at the gathered women, Fleet and Ground.

"Ladies, tomorrow we take the next step in this grand adventure we are on," Rachel said. "We will secure the lands of the Lost Clan and make it ours again." She waited for the cheers to die down before continuing. "Early this morning, the shields went up around our lands and we will begin rebuilding our presence."

They boarded the ships immediately after all of the present Nine gave a few words of encouragement. It wasn't the entire Fleet. Or even a large portion of it. Just enough for this stage of the job. Mostly Quinn's Ground Forces. More Fleet personnel would join as the Zone was turned into their Base.

* * *

"What are you watching?" Rachel asked, joining Brittany and Santana in Santana's cabin on the Fleet flagship. They were dressed in their field uniforms, ready to launch the attack.

"The news from Earth," Brittany said. "They've noticed the shield we've put up."

"Will that cause problems?" Rachel asked. "Aren't you about to launch?"

"Quinn and her first regiment drops in an hour," Santana said. "Dragon Flight is running top cover."

"The Earth forces can't breach the shields," Brittany added. "They just seem a bit puzzled by the whole thing."

"Oh," Rachel muttered. "Can you turn that up?"

_[A voice, speaking in English, was narrating]_

"Today, a large part of Mexico woke up to the following strange sight." 

_[The scene shifted to show a large silver dome with the sun reflecting over the top and trees reflected against the bottom.]_

"A large silver dome, estimated to be ten miles high, now covers a large portion of the Yucatan Peninsula. Mexican authorities have not commented on the sudden appearance of the dome.

Several thousand nationals from other countries are believed to have been in the area when this event occurred. Washington has also remained silent on this issue.

Members of the international group '2012 Apocalypse' stated that this is no coincidence. They believe that there will be signs, based on early Mayan calendar discoveries, that the world will come to an end on this date."

* * *

"Amusing," Santana said. "Can't wait to see the coverage when things really get rolling. Do we have any gear taping any of the governments to see what their non-PR response is?"

"I'm working on it," Brittany said.

"What do you need from me?" Rachel asked.

"Besides what you're already doing?" Santana asked. "Nothing specific. Just keep up your internal video blog and keep up morale like you've been doing. When we go public you're going to be very busy so enjoy the light workload."

"Okay," Rachel said, nodding.

* * *

_[Somewhere in a secret government conference room in Virginia...]_

"General! What's going on!"

"We don't know yet, Mr. President," General Pontife said. "We lost contact with our assets in the region at approximately 3AM local time and have been unable to insert new assets into the area."

"What is this thing?" the President asked, pointing at the silver dome. "Who's lab did it escape from."

"Satellite imagery suggests it is a complete ovoid sphere, Mr President. Nothing is coming or going through it," the National Security Advisor said. "It's beyond any of our technology, even things that won't be out of the lab for another decade."

"What can you tell me," the President said.

"There are several oddities, Mr. President. At approximately 2AM, a warning was broadcast to all airplanes in the neighborhood, telling them to avoid this thing. Also, all of the airlines that use the local airports now under the dome were informed that all airports in the Yucatan would be closed until further notice. The same was sent to any form of transportation that uses Yucatan ports, bus stations, and rail lines."

"Friendly," one of the President's advisors said, sarcastically.

"Yes, they are," the President said. "Whomever is responsible is going out of their way to avoid accidents. Just think how messy it would get if some pilot tried to fly through this thing?"

"Well, several airlines report that aircraft that were already in the air were able to leave the area," the advisor said. "And several cruise ships left without noticing this thing until they were on the other side."

"Anything else?"

"There were some unusual banking transactions reported this week centered on the area. Someone has been selling gold, platinum, and other precious metals in unusual quantities," one advisor said.

"It's not the entire peninsula," another said. "They seem to have missed Campeche."

"What's the importance of that?" the President asked, frowning.

"Oil," the advisor said. "The area covered by the shield is all agricultural and tourist revenue supported."

"Tourists?"

"Cancun, and several large ruined Mayan cities."

"Why does that sound familiar?" the National Security Advisor interjected.

"The predicted Mayan apocalypse is today. There are a large number of Apocalypse tourists in the area this week."

"Ah," the President said, grimacing. "Let's get some experts on this," he added. "Find out if this is a coincidence. We don't need panic among the usual suspects."

"Yes, sir."

"And the Mexicans?" the President asked. "What was their reaction?"

"Nothing yet. We aren't sure they've really noticed."

"What are we going to do?"

"We want our people back, Mr. President."

"Of course," he said. "Can we let them keep the ones there for the so-called Apocalypse? What about this shield?"

"Take a shot at it?" one general suggested.

"We don't know what it is," one of the science advisors protested. "You could kill someone."

"Okay, let's take a wait and see approach," the President said. "We'll need a statement for the Press."

"The usual?" the National Security Advisor said. 

"Yes. Keep me updated. And someone get Mexico on the phone," the president said. "I'll be in my office."

"Yes, Sir." They watched him leave the room, followed by his Chief of Staff.

"Let's just shoot at it," the National Security Advisor said, shaking his head in disgust. "Let's not start a war when we have no idea what's going on." He then left the room.

* * *

_[More News]_

"We have here in our studio the Mexican Ambassador," the reporter said. "Mr. Ambassador, what can you tell us about the events this morning on the Yucatan peninsula."

"We currently are not sure of the exact order of events," the Ambassador said.

"There's this huge silver shield covering Yucatan," the reporter said. "How many people live in this area?"

"It is not the entire peninsula," the Ambassador said. "The peninsula contains three of our states, Yucatan, Campeche, and Quintana Roo. Campeche is still under our control."

"Have you heard from anyone inside this area?" the reporter asked, pointing at the map on the screen behind him.

"Nothing," the Ambassador said. 

"We have reports of several cruise ships leaving Cancun this morning," the reporter said. "Have they mention this?"

"No," the Ambassador said. "They didn't see the shield until they reached the other side."

"So, the people there might not know that anything has happened yet?" the reporter asked.

The Ambassador shrugged. "We will get to the bottom of this," he said. "We do ask that anyone planning a vacation to the area contact their travel agent before leaving."

"And the people who were there?"

"We are investigating," the Ambassador said.

"And there you have it," the reporter said. "Tune in at 9PM tonight for additional information about these amazing occurrences in Mexico. Our guests will be Dr. Jensen Hoos, Apocalypse Society of London; Bobbi Winston, Cult of the Dragon; Dr. Wenn DeSouzza, Author and adventurer."

* * *

"Ready?" Santana said, looking at Quinn on the forward screen of her flagship.

"All set," Quinn said, pulling down her helmet. "Smoke me a kipper skipper, I'll be back for breakfast."

"Okay, Q, that... was bad. You need to work on your material," Santana said. 

"That was a classic exit line," Quinn said. They could hear the smirk in her voice. "Wait till you see our entrance." The screen went blank.

"Q!" Santana said. "Stubborn bitch." she grumbled when there was no response. "Artie!"

"Yes, Lady Air?"

"I want video from the ground," Santana said, her voice firm.

"As requested," Artie said.

"Where's Brittany?" Rachel asked.

"Brit is already on the ground," Santana said. "She's with her team, monitoring all communications in the Zone."

"And you let her?" Rachel said.

"I don't let Brittany DO anything," Santana said, forcefully. "I'm lucky that she 'lets' me love her."

"Aren't you scared?" Rachel asked.

"Aren't you scared that Quinn or any of the others will get hurt?" Santana said. "I'm terrified. But this is the job we agreed to do."

"Of course I'm afraid. She's a friend," Rachel said. "And these are all our people. They wouldn't even exist if it weren't for us, so we're ultimately responsible for them."

"I don't believe things work quite that way," Santana said. "They are responsible for their own actions. They are our people, yes, and we are the ones who involved them in this job, but they are doing this because they believe in what we're doing."

* * *

Quinn watched the meter as they dropped towards the shield covering the Zone. Their hard suits would easily pass through the shield, something they'd practiced for weeks. And had run through the simulators for even longer. But it still made her nervous. Clan tech was good but nothing was perfect.

"Sound off," she said, after dropping through. She'd do this once more when they reached the ground. Her team called in. Then the other team leaders also called in.

"Red Team, clear," Red Team Leader said.

"Blue Team, clear," Blue Team Leader said.

"Green Team, clear," Green Team Leader said.

"Gold Team, clear," Quinn announced. She could see all of the teams on her display, though they were invisible to anyone on the ground who happened to look up at that moment. Each team, consisting of four small trooper regiments, would secure a part of the eighty thousand square kilometer Zone. Each team would set up its base at one of the Mayan city ruins, her team taking Chichen Itza and rebuilding it as the main base for the entire Zone.

Rachel had grumbled about their plans to use several of the ruined cities for their bases but she'd understood the necessity. That they'd document them down to the last molecule before unleashing the nanite builders on the cities had only slightly mollified her. Quinn grimaced at the thought of Santana's reaction to the inevitable odes to the lost heritage sites that Rachel would certainly produce so they wouldn't forget the cost to history of the invasion.

As her team dropped down on Chichen Itza, she listened in on the chatter from the other teams with approval. She wasn't too worried about anyone listening in on their combat channels, but Quinn had drilled proper communication protocols into her troopers, agreeing with Santana that discipline was a good thing.

Securing the Zone came in several distinct phases. Their plan allowed for up to a month for each phase, though the goal was one week per phase. 

Phase One was securing their bases. After clearing any intelligent life from the area, a secondary shield would be erected over the area. A scan would then be made of the site, down to the last molecule. This would enable virtual reality reproductions for future analysis. Once the scan was completed, nanite builders would be released into the shielded area. The nanites would first restore the city to its original state and another scan would be made, once more for VR purposes. Following the second scan, the nanites would turn the old cities into usable facilities with all of the amenities required by a full Clan drop team. When completed,a process that could take forty-eight hours or more, depending upon the level of restoration required, the shield would be turned off and the team would move into their new quarters.

While the restoration process was going on, the teams would be familiarizing themselves with their designated areas, taking care to catalog any potential forces they would need to deal with. The initial goal was to ignore the major cities and their populations. Those would be dealt with in later phases.

Artie's scans had revealed over a million Lost Clan descendants on the entire peninsula. The rest of the population would be given the option to leave peacefully if they didn't wish to live on Clan lands, though there were contingency plans. Fortunately, due to a month of low level earthquakes shaking the entire Zone, the population had been reduced to a third before the reclamation began. But there were still a lot of people who would need to be convinced to either pledge loyalty to the Clan or abandon their homes.

"B?" Quinn said, contacting Brittany and her intel crews, as she looked out over the jungle from an old Mayan pyramid a mile outside of the city. It wasn't scheduled for restoration until some time after the city was complete.

"Yes, Quinn?"

"We're all on the ground. Phase 'City Restoration' has commenced. What can you tell me?" Quinn asked.

"Great!" Brittany said. "That company of US Special Forces troops on maneuvers with the Mexicans has gone to ground, as expected. They were spooked by the loss of radio contact with their brigade."

"Do we know where they are?" Quinn asked.

"Of course," Brittany said. "Green Team should contact them at some point soon. You still want them alive?" she asked. "They won't be able to tell us anything we don't already know."

"Santana wants to wrap them up in a bright red ribbon and drop them on the White House lawn on Christmas day," Quinn said.

"Was that really her idea?" Brittany said, sounding surprised.

"Not completely," Quinn said. "She was going to drop them off nude but Artie convinced her to tone it down a bit."

"How'd she do that?" Brittany asked.

"She might have threatened to tell you," Quinn said.

"That would do it," Brittany said. "We really don't want to embarrass anyone if we want their co-operation in the future."

"Have you found anything unexpected?" Quinn asked.

"Several stashes of high quality cocaine," Brittany said. "The guards refused to surrender."

"Ouch. Any injuries?" Quinn asked. They'd discussed before the drop how the teams would deal with the drugs cartels and drug lords. The general consensus had been 'no mercy' if they refused to surrender.

"Not any of our people," Brittany said. "Someone is going to need a spatula to wipe those guards off the walls." 

"Okay. What else do you have for me?"

"The air has been quiet," Brittany said. "There are several Mexican Army companies camped just outside of Merida but they don't appear to have noticed anything. They were supposed to join the war games but we'll have them in custody by the end of the day."

"Good. How soon will we have the governors and mayors in custody?" Quinn asked.

"The governors appear to be meeting in Mexico City," Brittany said, with a smirk. "We're collecting the mayors now. We'll bring them to you when you're ready for them."

"Okay," Quinn said. "Anything else I should be aware of?"

"The Mexican Air Force just scrambled several jets to check things out. They shouldn't be a problem, Santana has already moved a flight of Dragons in closer."

"Got it," Quinn said, looking at her display in her hard suit. "Any rioting yet?"

"Not yet," Brittany said. "Of course, most of the people have no idea anything is going on right now."

"That'll change quickly," Quinn said, "once they see the dome and find out they can't communicate."

"Should be fun," Brittany said. "Oops, gotta go," she said. 

"Be careful out there," Quinn said.

"Always," Brittany said.

"Boss?" her exec said, over the comm.

"Yes, Pin?"

"We have company," she said. "Eastern quarter gate."

"And?" Quinn asked. "If they're tourists, get rid of them."

"Not tourists," Pin said. "We have those rounded up at the Western gate."

"Be right there," Quinn said, keeping her thoughts about over dramatic underlings to herself. They did have video feeds in the hard suits she could tap into.

Quick movement in the hard suits could be an unsettling feeling. More of a skip than a jump. She found herself at the gate a minute later.

"Where's the fire," Quinn said, stopping next to her Gold Team exec.

"Them," she said, waving at a small group of women standing several hundred meters away. They were all dressed colorfully, in ceremonial Mayan robes. With one exception, they were all approximately the same height. The exception was a woman at the center of the procession, who appeared taller than Quinn, if she weren't wearing her hard suit.

"That was quick," Quinn said. "Have you spoken to them yet?"

"No," Pin said. "They stopped there as soon as they saw the shield."

"Shall we?" Quinn said, even as she opened a link to Santana's private line on her flagship. "San? Is Berry with you?"

"What've you got?" Santana said. "And turn your damn video feed back on!"

"Right," Quinn muttered, mentally flipping that switch. One of her modifications to the hard suits had been the video feed. She really hated having someone looking over her shoulder, virtually or not, so she'd arranged for video to require manual activation to broadcast it. It still recorded everything she saw but wasn't uploaded to Fleet records until the suit was plugged into it's maintenance bay.

"What are we looking at, Q?" Santana said.

"You weren't snooping?" Quinn asked.

"Of course not," Santana said. "I've got more important things to do than babysit you and your anime rejects."

"I was," Brittany said, her voice carrying amusement. "You don't mind, do you Quinn?"

"Of course not," Quinn said. "Rachel can you see this?"

"You have visitors," Rachel said, her voice excited. "Can you get closer?"

"And?" Santana grumbled. "For those of us who didn't swallow the entire history of the Clan?"

"They are wearing traditional Clan Priestess colors," Rachel said. "The tall one appears to be the Head Priestess."

"How do we handle them?" Quinn asked.

"Be nice, Q," Brittany said.

"You're wearing Fleet Clan colors," Rachel reminded her. "Be respectful, but if she recognizes your colors, you have more status and she has to defer to you."

"Well, Q, don't let the power go to your head. These aren't the homophobic asses you grew up with," Santana said. "And leave the video on!" she ordered.

"Yes, Lady Head Bitch," Quinn said, under her breath.

"And don't you forget it!" Santana said.

"San! Not the time for this," Brittany said. "Let Quinn do her job."

"Okay, Pin," Quinn said, switching channels. Santana could still hear her but her voice was muted, leaving just a scrolling transcript of her, Rachel, and Brittany's comments in the corner of her vision. "These might be important people. Word is they could be Lost Clan priestesses. Who do we have free to be escorts?"

"The twins are taking a break," Pin said. She paused. "They'll be here... now."

"Ladies, these are your responsibility," Quinn said, waving at the priestesses. "Play honor guard until they leave. 

"Yes, Boss," they echoed, disappearing in sudden movement, reappearing on either side of the priestesses.

"Shall we see what they want, Pin?"

Yes, Boss," Pin replied.


	13. Visitors

Sophia Martina Lopez had been preparing for this occasion for a decade. She'd struggled to reconcile the history passed down in her family, their exile from the mysterious Clans, and their struggle to carve out a civilization in the Yucatan jungle, with the history written by archeologists digging in their sacred cities. Today was the day when it had been prophesied that they would be allowed to return to the Clans.

Almost two thousand years had passed, and the stories of what this meant were often vague and impenetrable. And some of the family elders weren't sure anything would happen at all, given the destruction of their remaining society by the Europeans over the last few centuries. It was possible their gods would take one look at their destroyed cities or see the tourists crawling all over them like poisonous ants, and turn their backs.

She shouldn't have been the only high priestess to visit Chichen Itza on this fateful morning, but her cousin, the only other hereditary High Priestess left in the Society, had mysteriously disappeared years ago. For company, she had her cousin's mother, head Clan Witch Woman, and the local witch women of the Society of the Dragon. They would spread the word of whatever happened here, be it her death at the hands of their angry gods or just an angry argument with some stupid American hoping for an apocalypse.

When they came within sight of the entrance to the city, she wondered if her death wasn't immanent after all. Instead of a city, there was a large silver dome. And armored creatures standing guard.

"Now what?" she whispered to her aunt. Before she could reply, another creature appeared. "They are wearing the colors of the Clan gods," she said.

"We go forward," her aunt said. "This is our duty."

The witch women shifted nervously around them when several more creatures appeared with the others for a moment, before disappearing and silently reappearing on either side of them.

"They are not demons," the witch woman from Merida said softly. "This is technology. It looks like something from one of those cartoons my son watches."

"The Clans have returned?" Sophia asked hopefully.

"Someone has returned," her aunt said. "You must be brave."

Sophia nodded, straightening her back and attempting to appear like the High Priestess she'd been training to be. She managed to suppress her surprise when two more of these creatures appeared in front of them.

"The city is currently closed," the one wearing designs Sophia knew she should recognize, said. "Visitors will be welcome when we complete renovations," the clearly female voice said.

It took Sophia a few seconds to realize she'd been told this in the private language of the Clans, an old dialect of Classic Maya. She tried to hold in her excitement. "Honored being, may we talk with the leader of your people?" she asked.

"You are talking with her," the figure said. 

"The Head of your Clan," Sophia said.

"I am the Hands of the Nine," the figure said, her tone changing slightly to the more formal court phrasing that Sophia had last heard when she was made Head Priestess. "What may this one assist you with?"

* * *

"Quinn?" Brittany said, cutting in on the channel reserved for her. "Could you pan down to the short woman to the tall one's left."

"Sure," she sub-vocalized. "Why?"

"Did you ever meet Santana's mother?"

"Once, maybe. She was always traveling or working," Quinn said.

"She looks a little older, but that is the spitting image of her," Brittany said. 

"Santana?" Quinn asked over the other channel. There was silence. "Rachel? What's going on?"

"Uh... Quinn?" Rachel said. "Santana ran out of here, yelling something about cousins and lying mothers."

"Cousins?" Quinn said. "Brittany says one of our visitors looks like Santana's mother. She didn't say anything about a cousin."

"Brittany?"

"Yes, Quinn?"

"What's Santana's mother's name?"

"Maribel Lopez," she said.

"Can you do something about Santana? I don't want her down here until things are stable."

"She wouldn't do that," Brittany said. "She's probably in her room. I'll talk her down while you deal with the local situation."

"Thanks. Rachel?"

"Yes, Quinn?"

"Please stay on the line. If this is family, things might get a little tricky," Quinn said. "I might need your advice, as our expert on Clan relationships."

* * *

Sophia wondered why things had seemed to abruptly stop. The goddess of the Nine had appeared to pause, almost as if having a conversation with someone else.

"You have names?" the Clan goddess asked, her attention focus on them again.

"Sophia Martina Lopez, Priestess of the Society of the Dragon," she said.

"Maribel Lopez, Head Witch Woman of the Society of the Dragon," her aunt said. Sophia tuned out the rest, as they gave their ceremonial names.

"Your names shall be entered into our visitor rolls," the other figure said, after they'd finished. "You may return in two weeks to meet with the Nine. Sorry," she said, nodding to her leader, "Our Hand wishes you to know that only four of the Nine will be available at that time."

"I thank you for your consideration," Sophia said formally, nodding to the goddess of the Hands, the warrior goddess of the Nine gods. As she started to turn around, a fifth figure suddenly appeared standing next to the goddess, dressed in completely different armor from the others. They appeared to speak, though Sophia couldn't hear a word.

* * *

"Brit? What are you doing here?" Quinn asked, when Brittany suddenly appeared at her side. "Shouldn't you be with your team?" She didn't mention how fast she would have been going to get to Chichen Itza from Cancun so quickly, something none of her troopers could manage in their own hard suits without risking serious injury. Brittany liked to have her secrets and the design of her hard suit was one of them.

"I promised San I would make sure her mother was okay," Brittany said.

"Now? She couldn't wait until we meet with them in a week or two?" Quinn said, mentally shaking her head.

"She was going to come herself," Brittany said. "But we really need her focusing on the Fleet and not getting emo."

"Oh," Quinn said, surprised. "What's wrong with the Fleet? None of the Earth governments have space combat capabilities. And won't for centuries if we don't give it to them."

"She didn't want to worry you. Long range scans are showing some activity on the outer edge of the solar system," Brittany said. "She's sent a flight to check it out."

"The Enemy isn't here early, is it?" Quinn asked, quickly flashing a roll call status check to all of her teams, telling them to be extra alert.

"No," Brittany said. "She's just being cautious. The Enemy is known to seed systems it plans to invade with spy ships and other devices. And we really don't want them to know we're aware of them."

"Okay," Quinn said. "So, what are your plans?"

"I'm just going to go say hello," she said, turning towards the Priestesses. "Don't worry," Brittany added.

"Rachel?" Quinn said, mentally rolling her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Cross your fingers, and toes," Quinn muttered. "'Don't worry' is Brit-speak for 'I'm gonna do something extremely naughty'"

"Noted," Rachel said. "Should I go find Santana?"

"Won't help. Besides, Brit has managed to find something to distract her from running down here. Wouldn't want to ruin that."

"Okay," Rachel said. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Not counting on it," Quinn said. "All of my teams are on extra alert right now."

"You'll wear them out," Rachel protested.

"No, they're trained for this kind of thing. My girls are really tough," Quinn said. "I'd rather be prepared than be surprised."

* * *

Sophia halted her retinue when the newest figure turned and looked in their direction. She glanced at the two armored figures flanking them. They hadn't moved. She nervously waited. The figure ignored her and approached her aunt. It stood there for a minute before lifting its hands to its head. There was an audible click, and the figure removed its head, which seemed to be a helmet of some sort.

Sophia heard her normally stoic aunt gasp at the face that was revealed. It appeared to be an exceptionally beautiful blonde. 

"Hey, Mama Lopez," the woman said, with a small grin.

Her aunt stared for a long, long minute before desperately grabbing the armor covered woman in a hug. "Brittany Pierce! You're alive! Where is my daughter!" she said. "Is she here now?" she asked quickly glancing at the other armored figures.

"Santana is doing fine," this Brittany said, grinning happily. "She's occupied right now, and couldn't get away."

"Is this your doing?" her aunt asked, waving at the tall, silver dome. "What is going on?"

"We can explain when you meet with the Council of the Nine," Brittany said. "But you can't tell anyone you've seen me," the blonde said. "No one can know," she repeated.

"You are one of the Nine?" Sophia asked, when it struck her what was happening. "Where is my cousin? She was supposed to be here with us!"

"You must be Santana's not so little anymore cousin Sophia," the blonde said. "Santana has a very important job to do. She couldn't get away."

"Brittany," Sophia's aunt said. "Please answer the question. Are you one of the Nine? And why isn't Santana with you?"

"Do you know who the Nine really are?" Brittany asked. "What our purpose is?"

"If you are one of the Nine, you are our guardian goddesses," Sophia said. "The protectors who will judge us to see if we are worthy to rejoin the Clans."

"Goddess is such a relative term," Brittany said. "You've met the Hands of the Nine." She waved at the figure who'd told them to leave. "Otherwise known as Q," she said, winking at Sophia's aunt, who looked startled at that information. "I am the Shadow of the Nine," the blonde said. "And San is the Breath of the Nine. So, obviously not goddesses." She smirked. 

"The gods must have been crazy," Sophia's aunt said, shaking her head in disbelief, "to give my daughter such power."

"She handles it very well," Brittany said. "She's worked very hard to get where she is now."

"And the other Nine?" Sophia asked, worried at the implications that the Nine were truly in play, even if this one did not consider herself a goddess. The Return was truly at hand, she decided. She would need to meditate to understand the truth of the Return if it was happening in this unexpected way.

"Not all of the Nine are available, Santana's cousin," the blonde said, giving her a serious look. "We have the Hands," she pointed at the other figure, "the Shadow," she said, tapping herself, "the Memory", she waved vaguely at the sky, "and your cousin, the Breath."

"What does it mean?" Sophia asked. "You said you aren't gods."

"Come back in two weeks, when you're summoned, and we'll explain," she said.

"Is the other girl, the other missing one, one of the Nine," Santana's mother asked.

"That would be telling," Brittany said, laughing, and kissing her on the cheek. "But you'll meet her at the same time."

"The People need to know what is happening to their ancestral lands," Sophia said.

"You'll be summoned in two weeks," Brittany repeated. "Pip and Squeak will escort you home today, and return for you when we're ready." She pointed at the two figures to either side. "Remember, don't tell anyone what you've seen. And Mama Lopez?" she leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Yes, Brittany?" Sophia's aunt said.

"There are two men you might know, the Berry's. They arrived in Cancun the day before yesterday and are staying at one of the guest houses near the beach. Please bring them with you when you return. And, one of the Ladies Fabray, and a friend, is also staying there. Ask them to join us, if they are willing."

Santana's mother simply nodded before turning to the others. "Come, we have work to do," she said.

"What is going on?" Sophia asked her aunt, who almost seemed to glow, as they quickly headed back to the Meeting Place. "Who is that woman?"

Her aunt looked at the others, and their escort, before speaking softly. "When my daughter disappeared, she was with three others, from her school. Her girlfriend, Brittany Pierce; the head cheerleader from their school, Quinn Fabray; and a singer from the local singing group they belonged to, Rachel Berry. Brittany's parents didn't seem overly upset at her disappearance, but the Berrys took it very hard. They offered a reward, an outrageous number. The fourth girl? Her parents didn't seem to care but her older sister hasn't given up looking."

"And now they've shown up here? As members of the Nine," Sophia said. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but I will do anything these people ask to see my daughter again," Maribel Lopez stated. "I know you didn't wish for this burden, Sophia, to be the last Priestess in our line. My daughter's return won't change that fate, I fear. I suspect she has already been claimed by our gods for some more important task."

"Do you think this is our return to the clans?" Sophia asked. "If Cousin Santana is now one of the Nine?"

"If this is really my Santana, then yes," Maribel said. "But first we must find these people and bring them with us."

"I have a friend who works at one of these places in Cancun," Sophia said. "We will start there."

"Good." 


	14. Spies

"What are you up to, Brittany?" Quinn said to herself, watching her run off to rejoin her team. "Artie, did you catch what she said to that one woman?"

"I was unable to listen," Artie said.

"How is that even possible?" Quinn asked. "You hear everything we say, even if we tell you not to listen. And don't bother denying it."

"All hard suits worn by the Shadow and her assistants are specially modified to her specifications," Artie said. 

"Which includes the ability to have a truly private conversation?" Quinn asked, as she watched the priestesses disappear into the jungle.

"Correct," Artie said.

"It's a good thing Brittany is one of us," Quinn muttered. 

"Affirmative," Artie said. "I suspect her training as a child included a number of useful skills of a specialized nature that only she is aware of."

"Do we know what her parents were doing on Earth before they died?" Quinn asked. "Something for one of the Clans?"

"Without interrogating her guardians, all we have is speculation," Artie said. "Some of her descendants show signs of similar abilities but do not have complete access."

"So, there's no way to duplicate her abilities," Quinn muttered. "Just like Rachel's abilities as the Memory belong only to her, even if we have a number of her descendants who are able to apply the genetic component of her skills to another area."

"Correct."

"If I asked you if the same applies for myself or Santana, that we possess skills and abilities that no one else has, tied to some genetic origin that manifests in a different way in our descendants, what would you tell me?" Quinn asked, curious, even as she continued to monitor the progress of her teams.

"Insufficient data," Artie said. "The mechanism that is behind this genetic behavior is still unknown."

"A 'No Idea' would have sufficed," Quinn said, sighing. "Brittany?" she said switching back to Brittany's channel.

"Yes?"

"What kind of progress have you made with our unwanted guests?" Quinn asked.

"The spies or the guys with the berets," Brittany asked. "The berets were being difficult but we've got them cornered. No shooting yet."

"Spies?" Quinn said. "We have spies?"

"Clever ones," Brittany said. "They're in our custody now. Do you want to meet them?"

"Yes, where are you?"

"Twenty clicks down the road," Brittany said. "Old temple. You can't miss it."

"Okay, I'll be right there," Quinn said. Turning to Pin, she said "I need to check on one of Lady Shadow's special projects. I should be back in an hour."

"Please take Pip and Squeak with you," Pin said.

"I can take care of myself," Quinn said, objecting to having a protection detail of her own.

"You know that isn't the reason for their presence," Pin said. "I have no desire to face the others of the Nine if something happens to you."

"You know Lady Air would just growl at you for a minute, after she finished yelling at me for getting myself killed," Quinn said, attempting to add a little humor to the situation.

"Lady Air doesn't scare me," Pin said. "She's military, like us. She knows how we do things. But the Memory? She can be scary."

"Yeah, she can get out of hand when one of our plan falls apart. Okay. But we won't be gone long."

"Famous last words, Quinn?" Rachel spoke in her ear. "Or just tempting fate?"

"Have you been listening the whole time?" Quinn asked.

"You didn't tell me to stop," Rachel murmured. "What do you think Brittany is planning?"

"Something for Santana," Quinn said. "She seemed awful chummy with Santana's mother."

"Well, Santana's family will soon know she's alive, and Brittany's guardians know about us, according to her. What about your parents? Or mine?"

"Mine? Won't care, I was just the spare," Quinn said. "Your parents? All you have to do is worry about how Brittany is going to spring them on you."

"I hope they aren't prone to heart attacks," Rachel said. "They are getting older. I would much prefer them to be alive." Quinn was grateful that Rachel didn't follow up on her comments about her own parents. You couldn't explain Fabrays, you had to experience them in all their psychotic glory.

"Well, start thinking about how you're going to explain your current lifestyle to them when you meet up with them in a few week," Quinn said.

"I've been thinking about that since we were kidnapped," Rachel said.

"Good!" 

* * *

"Not what I expected," Quinn said, looking at the bedraggled women sitting in a group on the ground. "What exactly was their reason for being here?"

"Well, they weren't sharing hair care tips," Brittany said, dumping a bag on the ground, revealing an exotic collection of electronics.

"Weapons?" Quinn asked, out of the corner of her eye catching one of the women wincing as the jumbled up pile of things hit the ground.

"Standard issue for a secret protection detail," Brittany said, holding open another, larger bag, though she didn't dump the contents on the ground. It contained a number of pistols, several mini-machine guns, and several stilettos.

"Ideas?"

"One of my girls is looking through their laptops and phones now," Brittany said. "One of them seems to speak a little Clan speech." She pointed at one of the women, separated from the others.

"Not surprising," Quinn said. "Any reason why she's getting special treatment?"

"Felt like confusing them," Brittany said, her amusement clear in her voice.

"You're going to make me talk with them, aren't you," Quinn said.

"You're Field Commander on this little jaunt," Brittany said. "Of course you get the interrogation fun-times."

"Gee, thanks," Quinn said. "Do we want them to see our faces yet?"

"Your choice. They aren't exactly the neanderthal types like the berets. We can keep them longer if you want. San is sending down a shuttle tonight. And if they see us, they'll be confused, which might be good."

"Why would we confuse them?" Quinn asked.

"We don't exactly look native, what with the whole blonde thing. Though they might think this is a joke." Brittany giggled.

"Let's use our little 'interpreter'," Quinn said.

"Clever idea," Brittany said, nodding. Going over to the the woman off to the side, she spoke briefly, gesturing towards the others.

"Keep your helmets on," Quinn told Pip and Squeak. "And Clan speak only."

"Yes, Ma'am," they said.

Quinn strode over to the women, flanked by her escorts. She gestured towards the one they'd designated interpreter, pointing at a spot to her side. Once everyone was where she wanted them, Quinn told her suit to retract her helmet. Once it was gone, she shook her head to get rid of the inevitable helmet hair, ignoring the surprised gasps of the women.

"Which one of you is in charge?" she asked in Clan speach. The 'interpreter' hesitantly repeated her question in English.

"I am," an older woman said, standing up. "Who are you?" she demanded. The 'interpreter' repeated her words in crude Clan speach.

"Why are you here, on our lands," Quinn said. 

"We are tourists," the woman said. "Why are you holding us?"

"You are not one of these 'tourists'," Quinn said, raising her eyebrow. "Unless tourist is your people's word for 'spy'?" She pointed at the pile of equipment on the ground and waited while the 'interpreter' struggled with her words.

"We are tourists," the woman insisted. "Not spies."

"No matter," Quinn said, shaking her head. "You shall be kept here until you tell us the truth." 

"I need to call our embassy," the woman said quickly.

"They are unavailable," Quinn said. "If you wish us to pass a message to your government, that can be arranged." Turning to Brittany, she said, "Could someone get them a stylus and tablet?"

"Thank you," the woman said, looking relieved.

Quinn nodded at her, before reactivating her helmet. "Hey Brit, how far do you want to take these games with these people?"

"We don't want them to get too angry, so not much further. Why?" Brittany asked.

"When she finishes that message..." Quinn started.

"Which will probably have some coded message in it?"

"Yes," Quinn agreed. "Translate it into Clan speech after you've decrypted it and send the translation."

"That's amusing, in a quirky, cruel way," Brittany said. "I think I like it."

* * *

[In the American embassy in Cancun - an emergency meeting]

"Have we been able to get through?" the ambassador asked, looking at his Chief of Staff.

"No," she said. "All communication to the outside is cut off."

"So, who can we talk to?" the ambassador asked.

"Anyone inside of this area," she said, pointing at a huge map on the wall. "There appears to be some sort of invisible wall."

"A wall. Can we get a helicopter up to take a look at it?"

"No, the airports are all closed," she said, putting red X's on all of the airports.

"Closed by who?" the ambassador asked. "The Mexican government? The local governments? Some gang? Who?"

"The governors were all at a meeting in Mexico City," his Chief of Staff said. "Their offices haven't been able to contact them."

"Of course not," the ambassador said in disgust. "Have we checked with the other consulates and embassies? Is anyone in communication with anyone outside of this area?"

"They are all having the same problem," she said. "In this zone we have over two million people. Cell phones work, radios work, landlines work. But only within this zone."

"So, someone hacked the entire communication system of an area of over eighty thousand square kilometers? In Mexico. So only people inside this invisible wall can talk to each other?"

"Satellite communications are also down," she said, wincing at his red face. "And the internet is being blocked."

"Of course they are. Do we have any idea what is going on?"

"No sir," she said. There was an abrupt knock on the door, interrupting an immanent verbal explosion.

"Ambassador, you need to come see this," his Head of Security said, sticking his head into the room.

The Ambassador and his Chief of Staff followed him down the hall to the teleconference room. It was filled with the rest of his staff. On the large screen, that dominated the room, was a strange sight, straight out of a Hollywood movie, the ambassador thought.

Sitting in a fancy chair, and surrounded by women dressed in what could be uniforms of some sort, was a woman, also dressed in what appeared to be a uniform, wearing a mask. Standing next to her was another woman in a mask, though she was wearing a very colorful dress, that the ambassador thought looked familiar.

On several screens behind them were unexpected scenes, one of the moon, and the other a satellite shot of North America, with the Yucatan peninsula, though, covered in a large silver dome.

They were speaking in an unfamiliar language. This lasted for ten minutes before it began to repeat.

"Does anyone have any idea what that was?" the ambassador asked. "What is that language?"

"It's playing on all of the video channels," his Security chief said. "It's Mayan, according to one of the cooks."

"A cook?" the ambassador shouted. "Did he provide a translation?"

"No. He said he couldn't understand it, he just recognized it."

"Do we have anyone we trust who CAN translate it for us?"

"Yes," he said nervously.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the ambassador shouted.

"She's on special assignment," his Security chief said. "She's out in the field with Agent Schultz."

"Well, get her back!"

"They aren't answering their radio or phones," he said.

"Why am I not surprised?" the ambassador said, shaking his head in disgust. "Send someone after her. We need to know what this is about," the ambassador said. "Or find someone who can translate this! Half the population are descended from the Mayans. Someone must still speak their damn language!"

* * *

"So, Brittany's bugged all of the embassies in the Zone?" Rachel asked.

"Yup," Santana said. "Some pretty fucking clueless diplomats in most of them."

"You just like making fun of them," Rachel said. "Was there any positive reaction to your speech?"

"The ones who found someone to translate it don't believe us," Santana said. "And the Lost Clan descendants are keeping quiet. My mother and cousin spread the word like we thought they would. They aren't going to spill any secrets until they hear our sales pitch."

"Did you know that your cousin was a High Priestess of the Lost Clan?" Rachel said, nodding.

"No, though I should have noticed that my mother was doing something when she visited my aunts and uncles," Santana said. "I can't believe I missed all those clues!"

"Have you talked with her yet?" Rachel asked, leaning back in her chair.

"No. I'll have a little chat with her after she meets with the Nine," Santana said. 

"Oh," Rachel said. "When do you think things will have settled down enough?"

"Enough for you to go look for your parents?" Santana asked.

"Yes."

"Brittany's keeping an eye out. She'll let us know when it's safe," Santana said. "Just let her do her job. She's really good at it. And I'm not just saying it..."

"As her girlfriend. We all know," Rachel said, smirking.

"Quinn wants to use those spy babes Brittany found wandering around in the jungle," Santana said. "Brittany agrees but it's really your area."

"Use them how?" Rachel said, leaning forward.

"Envoys? She figures someone must trust them enough to send them here just in case of an apocalypse." Santana said. "Brittany's wiz kids decrypted their laptops. These are some hot chicks. They aren't quite up to the level of any of us, but they aren't amateurs."

"So, I'm supposed to trust them?" Rachel said.

"Trial basis, Berry."

"All of you agree?" she asked.

"Quinn's exec, that Pin bitch, thinks we should bring them up here first and run them through one of the training programs to make them friendlies," Santana said.

"And brain-wash them?" Rachel said, surprised.

"We don't do brain washing, do we Artie," Santana said.

"Correct, Lady Air," Artie said.

"We do, we just don't call it that," Rachel said, not agreeing. "You can run someone through one of the learning pods and influence them. Look how Artie turned Quinn into a warrior. Before the Learning Pod, she was a different person."

"If you can think it, you can say it, Berry," Santana said. "Q was a mean bitch back in the day. She'll admit to it. But the Learning pods didn't brainwash her, they just helped her grow out of that. Brittany is very careful about things like that. She won't let any brainwashing happen."

"Okay. But no brainwashing. We just teach them Clan speech and enough culture that they won't stick their feet in inappropriate places."

"Okay, but first you need to write a nice note to their bosses telling them that we are borrowing their people," Santana said. "We'll include that sit-rep their boss lady wrote up with it. Brittany says there's something encoded in it but it should be harmless translated."

"Sometimes you scare me," Rachel said, staring at her. "All of you."

"But you still love us," Santana said.

"So you say," Rachel said, sighing.

* * *

_[Once more in that secret Presidential bunker]_

"What is this," the President asked, holding up a large colorful sheet of parchment.

"It was delivered with the morning mail," his aide said. 

"And?"

"It's a report from one of our assets in the Yucatan problem zone," the National Security Advisor said. "It's in an unknown Mayan dialect."

"Is this someone's idea of a joke?" the President asked. "What does it say?"

"We've sent for an expert," his Chief of Staff said. "She should be here soon."

"Have we heard anything from any of our other people in the area?" the president asked.

"Nothing. Complete silence. And no one else has been able to contact theirs."

"Satellite? What is that showing?"

"Same as before, Mr President. Just a sphere. We've moved one of our deep penetrating satellites over the area and confirmed it's a complete sphere."

"She's here," his aide said. A short redhead followed him into the conference room. Ignoring the other occupant, she headed straight for the document. Taking out a loupe, she started examining it.

"Where did this come from," she asked looking around the room. "It looks authentic but the ink and parchment are all wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"Too new," she said. "And, you only see this style of Mayan glyphs on large rock carvings."

"That isn't the issue," one of the President's science advisors said. "What does it say?"

"Hmm..." she said. "There appear to be two separate stories on this." 

"Well?" the President asked. "She seems a bit young," he said in a low voice to his Chief of Staff.

"She's been reading Mayan glyphs since she was ten," he said, in a whisper.

"Is this a joke?" she asked. "This first one - It's a report of an encounter with a blonde goddess wearing strange metallic armor, embossed with the sign of the Hand of the Nine who claims they are trespassing."

"What is the other one?"

"It's a request from the Council of Nine, whatever that is, possibly another name for the Bolon Yokte Ku?"

"What is this 'Bolon Yokte Kuu'?" the National Security Advisor asked.

"There were nine gods of the underworld. Some people, who should really know better, believe they will appear during the Galactic Alignment, also known as the Mayan Apocalypse by some. But that's just a misinterpretation of the original text," she said.

"What's the request say?" the President asked.

"The Council of Nine have accepted the Lady in Black and her retinue as the representatives of her land to their court. This really makes no sense," she said. "There's also something about reclaiming the lands of the Serpent Clan."

"Well, at least we know what happened to Schultz," the Chief of Staff said to the president.

"Is it possible to translate that into English?" the National Security Advisor asked the redhead.

"Possibly. Some of the glyphs used don't have direct equivalents to English," she said, staring down at the parchment.

"When can you begin?" he asked. 

"This is some kind of secret government training exercise, isn't it," she said, looking around the room.

"It is confidential," he told her. "No one else can know what that says."

"Do you expect more like this?" she asked. "This is an interesting example of Mayan story telling."

"It's possible," he said, "but you'll need to fill out some paperwork first, correct Mr. President?"

"Correct."

"Come this way then," the National Security Advisor said, leading her from the room.

"What do you believe this message means?" the President asked, once they were gone.

"Blonde alien women laying claim to part of Mexico?" one of the generals said. "Sounds like something thought up by some geek in his basement."

"I'm inclined to agree," the President said. "But if there's any truth to this, we now have someone on the inside. How do we signal acceptance of this request and inform Agent Schultz of her new assignment?"

"We'll figure something out," his Chief of Staff said. 

"Do we have a final count of the missing?" the President asked. "How many Americans are involved?"

"We're still working on that, Mr. President."

"Can we get airtime from the networks? I think a speech to the nation is in order."

"I'll see what is available, Mr. President."

"Good. Someone get my speechwriter down here," he said.

* * *

"Is this all of them? Santana asked, staring at the monitor showing the women one of Quinn's teams had captured. "They don't look too impressive."

"They're too dangerous to leave wandering around while we turn the Zone into our own little kingdom," Brittany said. "They're very James Bond, except they aren't English, and if Bond had ever run into one of them he would have died five minutes into the movie."

"If you say so," Santana said. "There are eight of them. What do we do with them?"

"I'd dig a deep hole and not let them out until we leave," Quinn said, "in ten years."

"That's mean, Quinn," Brittany said, her voice distant.

"I don't have time to do anything with them," Rachel said. "This is a Brit project."

"They can be our secret minions, sort of," Brittany said. "We teach them Clan language, and give them a basic run-down of what the Clan means and why we're here. And put them to work."

"Doing?"

"Stuff," Brittany said. "Running errands. Yelling at diplomats. Making sure none of the Earth governments get too nosy. Getting the UN on our side. Stuff."

"Spy stuff?" Rachel asked.

"Not exactly. They are very talented, if we want to believe their files, but my crew is so much better at that sort of thing. But I think a different point of view would be useful. And this will make the US government think they have access to information no one else does. And since those are the guys who are going to cause us the most trouble... if we employ some of their people they are less likely to try to interfere in our long range plans."

"I'm still not sure about this," Rachel said, frowning. "We have our own people. Why do we need more?"

"Because what we're doing isn't remotely simple, Rachel," Brittany said. "They can help. Think of it as counter intelligence. Besides, I've already borrowed them. We can't give them back now."

"I got it," Santana said. "Let me talk to them, make sure they know what they are getting into." Getting up from her desk, she nodded to them, and went down to the conference room. Nodding at her security chief, she entered the room, followed by her security detail, dressed in hard suits.

"Where are we?" the oldest woman, Agent Schultz, asked. Her question was repeated by the 'interpreter' for the group.

"Ah, that would be telling," Santana said, answering in English, to their obvious surprise. "We did pass your message to your boss's boss," Santana said, smirking. "Took them awhile to find someone who could read it."

"What did you do to it?" Schultz asked.

"Nothing much," Santana. "All communication with outside organizations must be conducted in Clan speak. So, we translated it for you, since you weren't aware of that little rule."

"Clan Speak?" Schultz asked, puzzled. "Mayan?"

"Well, my favorite linguist would say it's an ancient dialect of the language you call Maya, but that's just a detail," Santana said. "Now, someone, not me, I have better things to do, has decided that you deadly ladies would be more useful to us if you spoke our language and had some sense of our history. I don't agree but no one argues with her."

"So, someone is going to teach us your language?" Schultz asked.

"Not someone, something we call a Learning Pod. You'll love it," Santana said. "You can learn a year's worth of almost any topic in less than a day. We all use them when we need to learn something in a hurry."

"Then what?" Schultz asked.

"Well, I'm sure you'll understand that you won't get your fun little toys back until we feel we can trust you. But we do plan to put you to work. We've even formally requested that your bosses lend you to us."

"What did they say?" Schultz said.

"Well, they haven't figured out how to reply to us, but we have it on good authority that they said yes," Santana said.

"What do you plan on having us do?" Schultz asked, sighing.

"If this were my idea, I'd put you to work in some nice safe place until this whole thing is over with. But we don't actually have any safe places to throw you in. So it looks like you're out of luck. Your main task will be as our intermediaries with all of the people who think they are too important to follow our rules."

"Humans don't like following rules," Schultz said. "The more power they have, the less likely they are to listen."

"Knew that," Santana said. "Wrote a book about it. Made all my crews read it."

"Your crews?"

"Someone needs to be in charge, right Penny?" Santana said, directing her question to one of her guards.

"Yes, Lady Air," Penny said.

"A word to the wise," Santana told them. "Even without her hard suit, Penny could mop the floor with any of you, faster that you can cry uncle. So don't annoy her. Or anyone else here, for that matter."

"And where is here?" Schultz asked again.

"A little place we like to call an asteroid belt," Santana said. She pushed a button, revealing the asteroid field in the view screens. "That first step's a doozy. And don't think about stealing a shuttle. It's not like flying an airplane, and Star Trek? Got all the details wrong, and isn't worth much as training material."

Opening the door, Santana stepped out into the corridor, followed by Penny. "Let them think about that for an hour and then we'll start cycling them through the pods."

"Yes, ma'am," Penny said.

"And I'd like a copy of whatever they talk about," Santana said, before heading back to her office where Brittany and Rachel waited.

* * *

"What's the verdict?" Schultz asked her team. They usually came through in a pinch but aliens and space ships were way outside their areas of expertise.

"Unless we plan to learn how to fly one of their ships after we steal it, we're at their mercy," Tex said.

"They aren't exactly Ming the Merciless," April said. "Or they are very good at hiding it."

"Notice how there are no men? Anywhere?" Judy said. "That'll make things more difficult."

"Yeah, no flashing your tits to get the keys to the cell," Betty said, laughing.

"I never flash my tits," Judy protested. "I just use my natural charm on the guards."

"You're all up-to-date on your anti-brainwashing pills?" Schultz asked.

"Right before we flew down to Cancun," Betty said. The others nodded.

"I'd like confirmation that the Boss approved this new assignment," Schultz said, "but learning their language wouldn't hurt."

"Especially if they refuse to communicate otherwise," Peaches, their language expert, said.

"Someone's head must have exploded when they saw your message in Mayan," Fred said.

"There's a kid over at the Institute who lives and breathes the stuff," Peaches said. "She probably had it figured out in minutes."

"And why is she not here with us?" Schultz said. 

"It was past her curfew?" Peaches said. "She's only fifteen."

"So, order of business," Schultz said. "Learn their language and anything else we can about them. Find out why they invaded Yucatan and not somewhere more useful like Idaho. Send the info to the Boss. Anything else?"

"I want to know why only women," Jess said. "It might be important."

"Maybe they just want to tweak our religious leaders?"

"The Pope? Would he care?" Betty said.

"Steal a ship and escape?" Judy said.

"How many of them speak English? And where did they learn it?"

"And who is Lady Air?" Schultz added herself. "That was a midwestern US accent mixed with something else."

"Hispanic," Judy said. "I have a third cousin from Ohio who sounds like that."

* * *

An hour later, Penny returned and led them into a long room, with a row of what looked like coffins. She pointed at several piles of material on a table just inside the door. "You must wear the learning suits," she told Peaches. "One size."

"She says to wear these," Peaches said to the others. They each picked one up. 

"No changing room, apparently," Judy muttered, looking around.

"All women," Schultz reminded them. "Change ladies."

"It's not very flattering," Peaches grumbled, looking down at herself. 

"I bet she looks good in one," Jess said, nodding towards Penny. "They all probably do. Not a wasted pound in the lot," she grumbled.

"Maybe they'll tell us their weight loss secrets?" April said.

"They run around in heavy armor all day," Betty said. "They probably burn hundreds of calories just walking around the room."

"Now what?" Fred asked, staring at the row of coffins. Tex walked over to one and poked it.

"What do we do?" Peaches asked Penny. 

Penny walked over to one of the pods and opened it by pressing on a small blue symbol. She then gestured Fred over and pointed at the pod.

"What does she want me to do?" Fred asked, listening to them talk with a puzzled look on her face.

"You climb in," Peaches said, "and lay on your back."

"And think of England?" Jess said, smirking.

"That's what she said," Tex said, winking at Fred.

"Hush, Tex," Schultz said.

"You climb in, lay down, and pull the cover shut," Peaches said. "The pod, this thing, is then flooded with something she calls 'goop'."

"How do you breath it?" Fred asked nervously.

"She says it's strange the first couple of times, but just breath like it's air."

"Okay," Fred said. "Do I have to go first?"

"Yes." Schultz said. "But I'll be right behind you."

"Boss?" Peaches said.

"Yes?"

"She says Lady Air calls it 'The Matrix' though none of her cohort agree."

"Interesting. So it's some sort of virtual reality learning system?" Schultz said. "And they've been watching our movies. Ask her what her favorite movie is."

"She says, Yes, it's a form of virtual reality. Someone called Artie will configure it to our needs," Peaches said. "And she doesn't have a favorite movie though she likes Uma Thurman movies."

"No accounting for taste," Schultz said, grimacing. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

"How are they doing, Artie?" Rachel asked. 

"They are excellent learners," Artie said.

"How long are you going to keep them under?" Rachel asked.

"Two weeks of real time," Artie said. "A month of subjective time."

"Well, I guess it's better than sticking them in a cell until we're ready for them," Rachel muttered.

"Indeed," Artie said.

"And the subliminal brain washing we don't do? How long will that take?"

"Two weeks," Artie said. "But it is not brain washing, as you call it. They are merely being given a positive outlook on the works of the Clans."

"Right. Shiny, Happy People," Rachel said, shaking her head. "On a boat. In a box."

"I do not understand your reference," Artie said.

"Don't worry about it," Rachel said. "I'm just rambling randomly. Let me know when they are done with their pod time, please."

"As you wish," Artie said. 


	15. Family Reunion

Maribel Lopez was normally a calm person. Her mother had been a calm person. The last time her family has seen her lose her cool had been when her only daughter, the pugnacious, beautiful, and often difficult, Santana Luisa had disappeared into thin air. She'd channeled that anger when she refused to allow the town to sweep the mysterious disappearance of four of its brightest young women under the carpet, taking up an almost holy crusade to get them back.

She'd never understood why the only Fabray who seemed to care about the missing Head Cheerleader, Quinn, had been her older sister. The one time she'd met Quinn she'd gotten the impression that the girl hid behind an almost impenetrable mask and that for some reason she fascinated her daughter, though in a completely different way than Brittany Pierce, her girlfriend, another one of the missing girls.

She actually hadn't been surprised at the distant reaction of Brittany's parents to her disappearance. They'd always seemed disconnected from her life, from what she'd seen of Brittany through her surprising relationship with Santana. But, their unshakable belief that Brittany would be back had helped solidify her own belief that Santana would find a way home, even if they made no effort to really look for her before returning to wherever they'd come from, a year after the girl's disappearance.

The Berrys, on the other hand, had been visibly devastated by the disappearance of their only daughter and had visibly aged over the past few years. She suspected that, given the attitudes of the Lima residents towards the Berrys, the only thing keeping them from leaving Lima and its painful associations was the belief that they needed to be there when their daughter returned.

She wasn't sure quite what to tell them. Brittany had not said anything about the Berry girl, and Quinn, though from her words she suspected Quinn had been one of the others that day at the Ancestor's city. But, to speak to her daughter again, she would drag them all there if she had to.

After several days of shock following the discovery of their isolation, everyone she came in contact with was talking about the strange situation they found themselves in. Everything seemed to be working as expected, except being cut off from the rest of the world. There was enough food. The electricity still worked, and all of the shops still accepted money. Luxuries like restaurants, movie theaters, and video game parlors were still open.

The aliens or Pretty Girl Soldiers, as everyone had started calling them, once they'd been seen without their helmets and on the beach, had been working with the banks, and mayors and other officials within the occupied zone to make sure the economy still worked. And that law and order prevailed. They'd already been quick to eliminate two drug gangs that had thought there was an opportunity to fill the power vacuum.

They wouldn't say when they could rejoin the rest of the world but Maribel suspected it would be months, if not longer, based on how the economy and government services were being rearranged. It was almost as if they were in a race to create a self-sustaining country before something worse than an earthquake occurred.

Even the foreigners were being encouraged to keep out of trouble. Under orders from the Council of Nine, all of the embassies and consulates were working overtime to document any of their citizens who were in the Zone when the Council annexed it.

She'd heard from various usually reliable sources that non-residents would be allowed to leave soon and that the Nine would be covering the cost of any extended vacations of any unwilling captives. One of her banker friends had quietly indicated that a lot of money was moving around as unknown entities hurried to purchase any property owned by outside companies, and secured ownership rights to large portions of the peninsula. She suspected the Nine were behind it but nothing was being said in public.

Hopefully, her daughter and friends would provide some sort of answers before the day was over, she thought, as she stared at the cabin door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked firmly, twice.

The door opened a crack, and Hiram Berry peaked out, before quickly slamming the door shut, and then reopening it all the way.

"Maribel Lopez!" he said excitedly. "What brings you here?"

"May I enter," she asked formally. "I wish to discuss something with you."

"Sure," he said. "I was just making coffee. Would you like a cup? Leroy is in the shower."

"Yes, thank you," she said.

"What brings you to Cancun?" he asked. "Have you been here long? Are they letting people go home now?"

"My family is from the Yucatan," she told him. "I was here for a family celebration when our gracious hosts arrived."

"So, you aren't being asked to leave when things settle down?" Leroy asked, entering the room. Leaning over, he hugged his husband before taking the cup of coffee offered to him.

"No," she said. "Families with Mayan blood are not being asked to leave, though no one has explained the reason to us."

"Interesting," Hiram said. "Rumor has it that one of the Mayan gods unexpectedly appeared last month, on the 21st, and has decided to take the entire peninsula back from the Spanish. Though, since the Spanish don't claim it any longer that might be difficult."

"Governments have always had a difficult time with my people," Maribel said, with a small smile.

"What brings you here?" Leroy asked, putting down his cup.

"How did you happen to pick this month to visit our fair land?" she asked, instead of answering him.

"There was a contest," Hiram said. "The hotel was recently purchased and remodeled and the new owners gave away a month's stay to several lucky couples."

"Though I don't recall us entering it," Leroy added. "But we needed to get away from Lima and this was the perfect opportunity," he said squeezing his husband's hand.

"Clever," Maribel said, under her breath. "Do you know who else won?" she asked.

"The Fabray girl's older sister and her girlfriend," Hiram said. "We ran into them down at the beach yesterday."

"Not her parents?" Maribel asked in surprise.

Leroy frowned. "They're on some pilgrimage to Israel," he said. "Or so Lima gossip claims."

"And the Pierces?" she asked.

"We haven't heard from them since they moved away from Lima," Hiram said.

"Ah," she said, nodding to herself.

"Why do you ask?" Leroy said, after refilling everyone's cup.

"My family has had connections to the ruling family of Chichen Itza since the founding of the city," she said. "My niece is High Priestess of the family Dragon cult, as my daughter would have been," she said. "We went to perform a ritual at our temple in the city, and were prevented from doing so by our recently arrived hosts."

"That's fascinating," Hiram said. "What was the ritual for, and how do you hand it down between the generations? Written or oral?"

"Hiram, not now," Leroy said. "He's fascinated by Mayan history," he told Maribel. "Legend has it that one of his ancestors was a Mayan princess."

"Really? Do you know her name?" Maribel asked. "My niece's doctoral thesis is about the Mayan diaspora after the Spanish conquered Mexico."

"No, she changed her name, or it was changed for her when she married into the family. She did leave behind several documents that no one has ever been able to translate," Hiram said.

"I would like to see them, if possible," Maribel said, trying to conceal her excitement at the thought of unknown original Mayan documents surviving the Spaniards.

"That could possibly be arranged," Hiram said, "after we are allowed to return home."

"Of course," Maribel said.

"You were saying you attempted to visit one of your family's holy places?" Hiram said, excitedly. "What happened?"

"Several of the young women soldiers employed by our hosts were there," Maribel said. "They told us to come back another time."

"What do they look like up close?" Leroy asked. "We've only seen them from a distance. They seem impressive but they looked a little like characters from a cartoon."

"In person, they do look like something from a movie, but there's a certain hardness, a realness to them," she said. "There were two others there. One of their leaders, called the Hands of the Council of Nine, was there, though they did not remove their helmet."

"Interesting," Hiram said. "What does that mean? Hands of the Council?"

"One of our earliest legends is of a group of Nine Gods of the Underworld who would come to remake our world. The leader of their army, one of the gods, was referred to as their Hands."

"So, coincidence?" Leroy asked, interested in spite of himself.

"I believe we met their war leader," Maribel said.

"Do you think the eight others are here?" Hiram asked. "I wonder what they could be? We know they look partially human."

"Partially?" Leroy asked. 

"Humanoid head, arms and legs and a torso. Of course, we haven't seen them without their armor so the rest is pure speculation," Hiram said.

"My niece has been asked to return to Chichen Itza this afternoon to meet with those of the Nine who are present," Maribel said. "Your presence has also been requested."

"Our presence?" Hiram said, squeaking in surprise. "Why us?"

"There was another present at the city," Maribel said. "My daughter's friend Brittany made her presence known."

"Brittany Pierce?" Leroy said, standing up excitedly. "Did she say anything about the other girls? Have they been found?"

"I know my daughter will be there today," Maribel said. "She did not mention the others, other than to tell us to bring you to this meeting."

"Rachel?" Hiram whispered. "Will they take us to see her? Is she okay? Does she still sing?"

"I can't answer that," Maribel said softly, "but please come with us. We'll pick you up around 1PM."

"What should we wear to meet such important people," Hiram said, looking worriedly at his husband and then Maribel.

"We shall dress as befits the occasion," she told them. "It's a long drive from here and you aren't used to this kind of weather. Wear something comfortable but dignified."

"We'll think of something," Leroy told her, as he watched Hiram flit about the room in a panic.

"Good, good," Maribel said, putting down her cup. "We will be back for you in several hours."

"1PM, yes," Leroy said, showing her to the door.

"Do you think we'll finally see our little girl again?" Hiram said, his voice carrying through an open window.

"I hope so," Maribel whispered to herself. She still had to talk to the Fabray sister, which was going to be difficult, since she'd never really spoken with her. The other cabin was near the water, in a private location. She wondered who had picked it out. She suspected that it had been Brittany. Her Santana would have never thought of something this subtle. It would have required a lot of planning, but then, the entire annexation of the Yucatan by the Council of Nine showed a keen mind. In fact, she was surprised that Santana hadn't appeared on her cousin's doorstep as soon as she found out.

Maribel recited a prayer to the Nine under her breath before approaching the door. She knocked several times but there was no answer.

"We're not in," a husky voice said from behind her. Startled, Maribel turned around. Two younger women, dressed in see-through beach shawls over colorful bikinis, stood on the walk. One was clearly a Fabray, with the distinctive family hair color, thin figure, and model-like features. The other was older, though no less beautiful, and vaguely familiar to Maribel, though she couldn't place her.

"Miss Fabray? I am Maribel Lopez. I don't know if you remember me, but your sister was a friend of my daughter, Santana," Maribel said.

"How could I forget," the blonde said. "You're the only person who seemed to care that my sister was missing, when even my parents couldn't be bothered."

"It wasn't that bad, was it Francine?" the other woman asked. "I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced," the older woman said. "I'm Shelby Corcoran. Rachel Berry is my daughter."

"Ah," Maribel said, nodding. More machinations by Brittany, she suspected. Hopefully, the Berry men wouldn't be upset if she was included. They hadn't mentioned her when they mentioned meeting the elder Fabray daughter. "You both came together?" she asked, curious.

"Let's take this inside," Shelby said, gently guiding Francine around Maribel to the door.

Maribel followed them inside, taking careful note of their body language.

"Drink?" Francine asked Maribel, before turning to Shelby. "Your usual?"

"No, thank you," Maribel said.

"Water is fine," Shelby said.

"We both received invitations to stay here several months ago," Francine said, handing Shelby a bottle of water. "Shelby and I became friends several years ago, completely by accident. I had no idea that her daughter had been one of the four."

"Leroy and Hiram have been kind enough to keep me updated on their search for Rachel," Shelby said. "As their surrogate, we'd agreed that I wouldn't play a major role in her life until she was eighteen, though we had been in contact for several months before the girls disappeared. When they arranged for the Choir room to be named after Rachel, they asked me if I would join them."

"We bumped into each other at the school the next day," Francine said. "I was there finishing the paperwork for a scholarship in Quinn's name, since my parents refused to have anything to do with it. We became close friends, and when we both received invitations, we decided to share a cabin." She blushed when she finished.

"How much older are you than your sister?" Maribel asked, curious.

"A decade," Francine said, frowning at her.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to offend you, I was just curious," Maribel said, quickly.

"Curiosity goes both ways," Shelby said. "What brings you to our door?"

"I do not know how much you both know about our current situation?" Maribel said.

"Just rumors," Francine said. "Neither of us speak the language so we've had to rely on the local papers for translations."

"It appears that, on the date of the Mayan Apocalypse, which I thought wasn't a real apocalypse, some aliens, who look remarkably human, appeared and claimed the Yucatan," Shelby said. "They are letting anyone who doesn't live here go home. Eventually. We went to the US Embassy and registered with them. Now we're just waiting for permission to leave."

"That is reasonably close to the truth, as I am aware of it," Maribel said. "The reason for the aliens claiming a large portion, not all, of the peninsula has not been fully explained. We do know that part of the reason involves the peoples of the peninsula who lived here over a thousand years ago. You would know of them as the Mayans, though that is not what we called ourselves back then. It is possible their claim to the land is valid."

"And no one can argue with them because they have the firepower to enforce their will," Shelby said, nodding.

"Correct."

"What does this have to do with us?" Francine asked, grabbing Shelby's hand.

"One of the locations claimed directly by the aliens is a sacred site," Maribel said. "It has been used by my family for many centuries."

"Oh, so you are from here?" Francine asked.

"Very much so," Maribel said, nodding in agreement. "When we went to perform a yearly ritual in our temple, we were prevented from doing so by these aliens. They have granted us an audience today where we hope to plead our case."

"What does that have to do with me?" Francine asked.

"One of the so called aliens is apparently my daughter's girlfriend," Maribel said.

"How is that possible?" Francine asked. "Does that mean the others are still alive?"

"I do not know," Maribel said. "I hope to receive answers to that and other questions today. And you have been invited to join us."

"I have?" Francine said, before turning to Shelby. "What about Shelby?"

"She was not mentioned, but I believe her presence would not be unwelcome," Maribel said.

"Are you sure?" Shelby said.

"It cannot be a coincidence that both of you received those invitations," Maribel said. "Or that the Berry's also received them."

"So, someone planned for us to all be here when this happened?" Shelby said.

"I believe so," Maribel said. "Can you join us?"

"Of course," Francine said, speaking for both of them.

"Good. We will be here shortly after 1PM. It will be a long trip so please dress in something comfortable but not ostentatious."

"Thank you for including us," Francine said, as she showed Maribel out of the cabin.

"The Council of Nine, the alien leaders, insisted on your presence," Maribel said. "You may not be thanking me later."

"Any information about my sister and Shelby's daughter would be worth any price," Francine said. "Just knowing what happened to them would be more than we have now."

"We shall see," Maribel said, before leaving.

* * *

"Are they here yet?" Rachel said, barely able to control her excitement.

"Cool your jets, Berry," Santana said, leaning against the back wall. "They are at the drop-off point now."

Quinn shook her head, leaning towards Brittany. "What did you give her," she asked.

"San? Nothing. Just the usual," she said, smirking.

"That, I didn't need to know," Quinn said, sure she was blushing. And glad her helmet was hiding it from the others.

"I'm sure Rachel would help you out if you asked," Brittany said.

"Not happening," Quinn said. "You know neither of us are into that."

"Really?" Brittany said. "You forget who you're talking to. I've seen your diary."

"Brit!"

"It's my job," Brittany said. "I need to know everything that motivates our people, including the Nine. And that means your deepest, darkest secrets. Fortunately for you, I can keep a secret."

"And you've read Rachel's diary?" Quinn asked.

"She doesn't keep one, exactly. The Memory of the Nine has no true privacy. Everything she thinks and experiences is recorded," Brittany said.

"Does Rachel know this?" Quinn asked, surprised.

"Yes," Brittany said. "She is able to designate certain memories be kept confidential until her death, preferably a long time from now. But some day, future Memories will have access to all of her thoughts about the things we do."

"That's strange to think about," Quinn said.

"You do remember that all of our memories were recorded and used to train our people," Brittany said. "What do you think that means?"

"I haven't really thought about it," Quinn said. "I don't think it's the same thing."

"No, but it's close. Our memories were treated like programming, while hers is really just a recording."

"Huh," Quinn muttered.

"And they're here," Brittany said. "Everyone stay here! Remember who you are, part of the Nine." she said. "We don't want to frighten them. They have no idea anyone except San and myself will be here." 


	16. Family Discussions

"Who's that with my sister?" Quinn asked, turning to Brittany. "And why's Francine here?"

"Who's that with my mother?" Rachel asked, just loud enough for Quinn to hear.

"You didn't," Quinn said, glaring at Brittany. "And don't say you didn't know. You've had this little reunion planned for months."

"I didn't have anything to do with that," Brittany said, subtly pointing at the two women holding hands. "And I'm not sure if anything is happening there. They might just be friends like they claim."

"We will be discussing this later," Quinn said firmly, on Brittany's private channel so Rachel wouldn't hear her.

"You're so cute when you try to be butch," Brittany said, giggling. "Are you going to spank me? That's usually San's job."

"Brittany!" Quinn said, sounding scandalized. "That's not what I meant."

"That's too bad. I bet if you asked Rachel, she would be up for it," Brittany said. "Though probably not right now in front of her dads."

"This isn't the time or place," Quinn said.

"Right. Plenty of time later, after the 'fam' go home," Brittany said, smirking.

"Argh!" Quinn screamed in the privacy of her hardsuit, after closing the channel. Taking a deep breath, and then several more, she tried to calm herself down before she did something inappropriate. She didn't think she would ever get used to the way Brittany could pull her strings.

* * *

"Let's get this show on the road," Brittany said, over the common comm channel as soon as all of their guests had been escorted into the inner temple reception room. "Jody? May? If you could give us some privacy? This is Inner Family business."

"Yes ma'am," Jody, a short brunette said. Nodding at her fellow trooper, they left the room, taking up guard positions in the outer chamber, the doors closing as soon as they were in position.

"Please take a seat," Brittany said to the group standing together at the edge of the room, her voice echoing. "We have many things to discuss," she said, telling her suit to retract her helmet as she gestured at large, colorful cushions scattered across the room. She ignored the surprised gasps from Rachel's fathers as her face was uncovered.

"But first, introductions are in order," she said, once everyone was seated, the Berry's next to Shelby Corcoran and Quinn's sister in the middle, Santana's mother and cousin off to the side. The four remained standing at the front of the large room, their armor glinting in the bright light. Brittany could hear Rachel giggling nervously over their shared com channel. "As some of you may already know," she said seriously, nodding at Maribel and Sophia Lopez, "We are members of the Council of Nine of the Dragon Clan."

"The Clan?" Leroy Berry asked. "Who and what does that mean?"

"Our Clans are many things. Family. Coworkers. Our governments," Brittany said. "Our identity."

"But why here?" Maribel asked. "This land is already occupied."

"To put it bluntly? The area we have annexed in the Yucatan originally belonged to one of our clans, so we took it back. We lost contact with them over a millennia ago but we still consider it Clan lands. You'll hear them referred to as the Lost Clan. And yes, Mama Lopez, we know they weren't really lost," Brittany said, when she appeared ready to protest. 

What are you going to do with it?" Hiram asked.

"We have several goals. One of them is to restore the Lost Clan to its original status. It was determined that it would be easier to do that from here."

"You said you have several goals," Hiram said. "Can you tell us what the others are?"

"Not yet," Brittany said. "In time we will share our plans, but not today."

"You are of the Nine?" Sophia asked, in the silence that followed. "What are your names?"

"We have several names," Brittany said, "depending on our role. As part of the Council, we are The Hands, The Memory, The Shadow, and The Air," she said, pointing at Quinn, Rachel, herself, and Santana. 

"So, you are the ones we have been waiting for," Sophia said softly. "But you are not gods."

"In some ways we are powerful, but no, we aren't gods," Brittany said. "Can you imagine what would happen if we were?" she said, giggling. "We are the ultimate authority within our Clan."

"Where is our daughter?" Leroy asked. "Is she safe? Can we take her home?"

"Brittany? Where are the others?" Maribel asked.

"We're all right here," Brittany said, pointing at the other armored figures. "Quinn is the Hand, Santana is the Air, and Rachel is the Memory." As she spoke their names, the others retracted their helmets. Smiling slightly, Brittany watched as the Berries, and Shelby Corcoran threw themselves at their daughter, Maribel Lopez pulled Santana into a hug, and Quinn's sister hugged her.

"No one is here for you," Sophia Lopez said quietly, looking up at Brittany. "Who is happy to see you?"

"Mama Lopez is here," Brittany said, giving her a small smile. "My parents died when I was very young. I barely remember them." She gestured at the others. "Look at how happy they are. That makes me happy."

"What do each of the Nine do?" Sophia asked in a low voice, as they watched the others.

"Good question," Brittany said. Raising her voice, she called everyone to order. "We aren't done," she reminded her fellow Nine. "Everyone sit down."

"Your girl is kind of bossy," Quinn said to Santana as they sat down.

"You're just noticing this now?" Santana said. "She's Brittany, and always has been."

"You mentioned the Nine are the ultimate authority in the Clan," Hiram said, maintaining a tight grip on Rachel. "What does that mean, and when can we take Rachel home?"

"The Nine is the official name for the leaders of one of the Clans," Brittany said. "For this phase of our plans there are only the four of us but eventually the other five will be awoken. Until then, none of us can go, we have a job to do."

"Why can't any of these others do this job?" Leroy asked. "There are a lot of these Clan people running around, from what I've seen and heard."

"It wouldn't be fair to them, Poppa," Rachel said. "They are here because we needed them. They're now our Clan. Our responsibility."

"But you were kidnapped," Shelby said. "Why do you owe them any loyalty?"

"It isn't that simple," Brittany said. "We weren't so much kidnapped as selected to lead this Clan until the Return is complete."

"Lead? Maybe you should explain further," Leroy said, frowning.

"The Clans aren't just people wandering around in space, like Hollywood gypsies," Rachel said, pouting. "They are an integral part of the Confederation," Rachel said. "There are currently twelve full Clans, each responsible for keeping peace in their part of the galaxy."

"Who put them in charge?" Hiram asked. "Is there some kind of government?"

"Not in the way you might think," Rachel continued. "The Universe is just too big for a single government to work. The distances are too far. What we do have is a loose confederation. They provide guidance to the local governments. A long time ago, the Confederation realized it needed some way to keep the peace. The Clans were being a nuisance and to punish them, the Confederation designated them as the Galaxy police. Each Clan has their own area to manage, though they can call on other Clans if they need help. Why am I doing all of the exposition?" she asked the others, when she paused for a breath.

"It's your job, short stuff," Santana said. "You do exposition, we do demolition."

Brittany sighed, shaking her head at her girlfriend's comment. "Earth was designated as the home base for the Lost Clan," she said. "Something happened to their Nine and things fell apart."

"What happened?" Hiram asked.

"Not sure what yet," Brittany said. "I'm still investigating, but that's not really relevant right now."

"How'd you end up 'selected' for this?" Leroy asked, his unhappiness with that clear in his voice.

"The Confederation finally noticed that this area was no longer under the watchful eye of its Clan and decided to do something about it," Brittany said.

"Took them long enough," Santana grumbled. "Could'a fixed things ages ago."

"Well, they picked us and we're going to do an awesome job on this fix-r-upper," Brittany said, waving at herself, Santana, Quinn, and Rachel. 

"I know babe. We're always awesome," Santana said. "But they screwed up, not us."

"At least they gave us training to do our thing," Brittany said. "They didn't just throw us into the pond to see if we could float. We have our roles. Important ones."

"Which are?" Francine asked, subconsciously tightening her grip on Quinn.

"Santana runs the fleet," Brittany said proudly. "She knows every member of her crews and can do every spacer job in the Fleet. She's the Lady Air."

"They made me learn everything from the bottom up," Santana said, grumbling. "I didn't get to the fun stuff for almost a year."

"Fun stuff?" her mother asked "What exactly do you do?"

"I can fly every ship in the Fleet," Santana said. "From the largest cruiser to smallest combat armor. And fix them too."

"She's really good," Brittany said proudly. "She's a natural pilot. I bet it runs in the family," she said, looking at Sophia.

"Quinn? What's your role in this?" Francine asked.

"She's Fleet General," Santana said. "Sort of like a combo of the Marines, and the Law. Any of our people you run into down here, except for us three, works for her."

"Quinn isn't in charge of any of my teams," Brittany said quickly.

"So, Quinnie, you're the new sheriff in town?" Francine said, poking her sister. "Ow! That stuff is hard!"

"Only if you hit me," Quinn said, poking her back. "Now hush. Brittany's talking."

"Yes, ma'am! Sheriff Q Ma'am!" Francine said, giggling.

"Sorry, Babe. Brit has her own crew," Santana said, correcting herself. "All of our intelligence assets report to her. She's our Spy Master. Our M."

"It's my job to snoop," Brittany said, giggling. "I know everything about everyone."

"Quinn? How did that happen?" Francine asked. "How did my pacifist little sister end up with an army?"

"She's really good," Brittany said. "She's the Hand of the Council. But I did yell at our AI when I found out what they had planned for her."

"You did?" Quinn said, clearly surprised.

"They didn't listen," Brittany said, sad faced. "Sorry Quinn."

"But, she does kick ass," Santana said hastily. "And her troopers are the best."

"And you Rachel?" Shelby asked, looking worried.

"My role is a bit complex," Rachel said, squeezing a pillow. "It includes diplomacy, being a historian, singer, songwriter, that kind of thing."

"Bard," said Santana.

"You're bored? Brittany said, puzzled.

"No, Bard," she said pointing at Rachel. "Berry's the Clan Bard."

"Oh! You should hear her sing some of the old Clan ballads. Even San cries for some of them," Brittany said.

"They didn't need to know that," Santana grumbled.

"These are your friends, my daughter," Maribel Lopez said. "They know you have a heart."

"So, let me get this straight," Francine said, slowly poking her sister this time. "These aliens kidnap the four of you, teach you all sorts of interesting things, put you in charge, and then what? You conquered Cancun?"

"It's got a great beach," Quinn said, winking at her. "And that's more than Sue Sylvester ever did. She's still stuck in Lima."

"We should get her down here," Santana said. "She'd be perfect for some projects I have planned."

"Like what?" Quinn asked.

"Ladies!" Brittany said loudly. "We aren't done here."

"Right. Sorry Brit," Santana said. "We'll talk later," she said to Quinn.

"There are several stages for this part of the job," Brittany said, glaring at Quinn and Santana to keep them quiet. "The first stage of the job, is what you're experiencing now," she said. "We've taken back the lands belonging to the Lost Clan and are working hard to turn it into an independent country. It'll be our base. The next stage will be to recreate the Clan from its descendants and then merge it into our smaller clan."

"More minions to order around," Santana said smugly.

"Don't pay any attention to her, Mama Lopez. She just likes making tasteless jokes only she understands," Brittany said. "We're just the military/police arm of the Clan right now. The Clan will be more than just us when we're done. We'll have teachers, and farmers, and doctors, and priests. All sorts of people."

"Once the Clan has been rebuilt, it will go back to its original role of policing this corner of the Galaxy. But we need a full clan for that," Quinn added. "And, at some point in the future, the four of us will pass on our roles as members of the Council of Nine to others."

* * *

"When?" Leroy asked quietly to Rachel. "And then can you come home with us?"

"The Clan is home," Rachel said.

"And your dreams? What about Broadway?" he asked her.

"This is more important," she said. "I still get to sing, and dance, and entertain, but there's so much more for me in the Clan. I have friends now!" she added. "People who care about me, and that I care about."

"We care about you," Leroy said. "We've missed you."

"I know," Rachel said softly. "But my life is here, with the Clan."

* * *

"It will be at least a decade before we get to the point where we can hand things over to our replacements," Brittany said. "And since we kind of own the hotel you are staying at, you can stay as long as you want."

"Why did they pick you four?" Shelby asked, after they'd digested that idea. "What makes you so special?"

"They were searching for people with Lost Clan blood," Rachel said. "And got lucky."

"How do they know?" Hiram asked his daughter. "You could almost pass for a native here but Quinn and Brittany look distinctly northern European."

"They have very sophisticated gene mapping tools," Quinn said. "All four of us have Clan genes."

"So, you all have ancestors who lived here?" Sophia asked. "You are all part of the Mayan diaspora?"

"Not all of us," Brittany said. "Just Quinn, Rachel, and Santana. And immediate family - Hiram and Francine."

"You're Clan but not our Clan?" Sophia asked, puzzled. "How is that possible?"

"Brit is special," Santana said, defensively. "Does it really matter?"

"Artie is checking the rest of you right now," Brittany said. "We know Mama Lopez and Cousin Sophia are members of the Clan because of Santana. But Leroy and Shelby? Do you want to know? We don't need to check. You can join the Clan because of Rachel, even if you aren't a blood member at this point."

"I'll need to think about this," Leroy said. "What would it mean for us?"

"Not much, Poppa,' Rachel said. "At least not right now. We'll probably lose people who don't want to live on Clan ruled lands so finding a job shouldn't be too hard. I would really like you both to stay."

"What of the people who are not Clan affiliated?" Sophia asked. "We have a large population descended from the Conquistadors. They consider themselves natives."

"We've already run the calculations," Brittany said. "It looks like that will be a small group," Brittany said. "There are a million people with clan blood. Less than half a million without."

"That's a lot of people," Leroy said.

"It would be a lot more but there's been some attrition over the last year due to that hurricane and earthquakes," Quinn said. "And several hundred thousand tourists still to deal with."

"That seems like a huge job, to integrate all of these people into a single society," Shelby said. "At least I'm assuming that is your goal."

"It'll be a year or two before we are ready to open our borders to visitors," Brittany said. "Assuming no one interferes with our plans. But we should be rejoining the world sooner than that."

"How do you plan to feed our people?" Maribel asked, frowning at them.

"No one will starve," Rachel said. "Farmers will continue to grow and get paid for their crops. Businesses will stay open. We're just rearranging things so that we are self-sufficient and don't need to depend on anyone else."

"Life will be different," Brittany added. "But not too different."

"The other nations won't like this," Leroy said. "And what about the Mexican government? Won't they object to your plans?"

"Poppa, they have no choice. No one is getting past Santana's fleet. And Quinn controls the ground," Rachel said.

"You're talking as if the people will do whatever you want," Leroy said, obviously disturbed.

"Don't they always?" Santana said. "We aren't taking away their possessions, though we'll buy out anyone who doesn't want to be a part of this. And there will be new jobs. And education for those who want it."

"We are doing things the Chicago mob way," Brittany said. "We're bribing the federal government to leave us alone, not that they could stop us. We've talked with all of the Mayors of the cities here and they've agreed to co-operate."

"And, we're buying up all of the touristy places owned by outside interests," Santana said.

"It's not going to be a paradise," Rachel said. "But life will improve for everyone who wants to be a part of this."

"We will need to discuss many things," Sophia said. "The People must see the benefits to them in this new world."

"Of course," Quinn said. "It will take time. It's only been a week. Most people have no idea what is going on."

"We have plans in the works," Brittany said. "But let's talk about more urgent issues. Like, why you are here today, Sophia, instead of learning about our plans over the next few months with everyone else."

"We would like access to the Family temples in the Ancestral cities," Sophia said. "Contrary to what the foreign archeologists claim, they are still used. And, no, human sacrifice is not something we practice."

Quinn pulled her tablet out. "Can you point them out?" she asked, handing it to her with a map of Chichen Itza on it.

"Yes," Sophia said. 

"We would also like someone to speak to the village elders about your plans," Maribel said.

"That would be Rachel, Mama Lopez," Brittany said. "We'll give you the number for her assistants and they can work out appearances, when and where."

"What if I want to decide that myself?" Rachel said, pouting.

"We've talked about this, Shorty," Santana said. "You'll need escorts and transportation, and you have other meetings to attend. That's why you have assistants."

"Phewie," Rachel said, sticking her tongue out at Santana.

"Something confuses me," Shelby said. "Three of you are part of Sophia's 'Mayan Diaspora' but what about you Brittany?"

"Yes," Maribel said. "You've gone to a lot of trouble to bring us all here but where are your parents?"

"My parents died years ago," Brittany said. "My guardians, whom you've met, are traveling. We felt it important that all of you not be visible when the nosy governments discover who we are."

"You felt it was better," Quinn said. "I'd prefer to be optimistic."

"What do you mean?" Shelby asked.

"Right now, everyone thinks we are aliens. A bunch of those apocalypse cults are flooding into the area hoping to join us in some brave new world order," Quinn said.

Rachel snorted. "I can't wait to see their faces," she said, "when they discover we're two tall blondes and two short brunettes. And no men! And we don't want what they want."

"We also have a bunch of governments trying to get our attention. They think we must have some awesome tech they can steal. Brittany thinks our families will be used to blackmail us to get it."

"So, Mom and Dad?" Francine asked.

"They were invited," Quinn said, frowning. "If they don't want to be here, that's their problem."

"Do you really hate them that much?" Francine asked.

"No, she doesn't," Brittany said, frowning at Quinn's mulish expression. "We're keeping an eye on them. If someone tries something we'll go get them."

"Brittany, you didn't answer Sophia's question," Maribel said.

"I didn't? Sorry. My parents belonged to another Clan," she said. "They were looking for the Lost Clan when they died in an accident."

"I'm sorry," Maribel said, squeezing her hand.

"I've had a long time to get used to it," Brittany said. "I consider Santana's family to be mine."

"We are honored," Sophia said.

"Wait until she plays one of her practical jokes on you," Quinn said, shaking her head. "Then you won't feel so honored."

"You're just jealous," Brittany said. "Mine always turn out better than yours."

"Rachel, could you explain something else for me?" Hiram said.

"Of course, Dad."

"You said that you were responsible for all of your people being here?"

"Yes…"

"What exactly did you mean? Wouldn't they have been here anyway if someone else had been picked to do this thing you are doing?"

"Not as such," Rachel said. "They're kind of related to us," she added.

"What do you mean?" Hiram said.

"Well, Artie came here several decades ago, without any crew. She had to create them once we were ready to begin."

"Artie?" Francine asked. "You've mentioned an Artie several times but who is that?"

"Artie's the AI, Artificial Intelligence, sent by the Galactic Confederation to manage this project."

"So, this Artie works for you?"

"Not exactly," Rachel said. "It's her project and we're just the subcontractors on site, more or less."

"Oh...kay," Hiram said. "I'd like a better explanation later but let's get back to where Artie 'created' a crew."

"It's sort of like cloning, but not really?" Rachel said. "I don't really understand it myself."

"Clones? So there are clones of the four of you running around here? Or clones of someone else?"

"No," Brittany said. "It isn't really like that. Artie took some genetic material from each of us, you know - like DNA, and mixed it up it to make new, original people from it. It's better to say they are our great-grandchildren," she said. "Most of them work in the Fleet for Santana as her ship crews and as troopers in Quinn's army. I have several small teams and so does Rachel."

"So, we're Great-great Grandparents?" Leroy asked eagerly.

"They're Clan," Santana said, shaking her head. "We have a family structure, of sorts, but they aren't really our children. And they aren't clones, like you see in the movies. They have their own minds. And personalities. Though I still say Artie pulled a fast one with Rachel."

"You know she doesn't work that way," Brittany said.

"Well, she did something. Otherwise, why do all of my Ships Engineers come from her," Santana grumbled.

"Because I'm special," Rachel said, smirking. "And don't all of our cooks descend from Quinn?"

"Well, that at least makes sense," Santana said grumpily. "I bet Francine here has that 'chef' gene too. Probably bred into the Fabray women by the gods."

"Francine is an excellent cook," Shelby said. "She seems to have a knack for it." "See! I told you so," Santana said.

"That doesn't explain all of your Rachineers," Quinn said. "They are very good at their jobs but none of them can carry a tune," she added, throwing a pillow across the room at Rachel.

"So, not grandparents," Leroy said sadly.

"You'd go broke trying to buy them gifts," Rachel said. "Our proto-Clan has over five thousand members."

"Oi-vey," Hiram said. 

"And the 'no men'?" Maribel asked. "Was that your idea Santana?"

"Me, Mama?" Santana asked innocently. "Would I do something like that?"

"Yes!" her mother, cousin, Brittany, and Quinn said together.

"It wasn't me," Santana said, holding up her hands.

"That's my fault," Brittany said, blushing. "Artie asked me if the new Clan members should be like the Lost Clan, which we've since discovered were all women in Fleet positions. I might have said yes."

"All women?" Maribel asked, surprised.

"Yes, though they appear to have intermarried with several local tribes after the Confederation lost them," Brittany said. "It's possible they are the source of the myths about Amazons."

"All of our priests are now women," Sophia said. "The male Priests were the ones who insisted on performing ritual human sacrifices."

"Huh," Rachel said.

"So, all women, because the original Clan power structure was all women?" Shelby said. "And they are all related?"

"After a fashion," Brittany said. "We had to create rank and family House tattoos so everyone could keep things straight."

"You have a tattoo, Baby Girl?" Leroy asked Rachel. She nodded.

"Can we see it?" he asked.

"Um…" she looked at the others, blushing. "I'm not sure."

Brittany giggled. "We didn't really need the tattoos," she said, "but we all got them. In different places. I think Rachel has hers in a place she never expected anyone to see."

"Yes," Rachel squeaked, her blush getting darker. "I'd rather not."

"Wimp," Santana muttered. "You can see mine." Pulling down her top, she exposed the side of her right breast. Pointing at the three small tattoos she said "House, Family, Clan Rank."

"Sometimes I wonder about you and your voyeuristic tendencies," Quinn said. Retrieving her tablet from Sophia, she flipped to another screen. "These are the tattoos," she said, handing the tablet to Leroy.

"Very intricate work, on some of these," he said.

"Pretend it's an iPad," Brittany said. "Squeeze to shrink, spread to enlarge."

"Oh. Ah. This is interesting work. If we become part of the clan, will we have to get them also?" he asked.

"No, it's really a Fleet thing. Family and Clan civilians don't need them. Also, the Family and House tattoos are because some of us felt there needed to be some way to distinguish how we're related."

"And the House? Was that your idea, Quinn?" Francine said, laughing.

"No, it was Rachel's idea," Quinn said.

"The Sorting Hat was Brittany's," Rachel said. "I just suggested we follow an ages old tradition from before the Clans went to space."

"Like Klingons?" Francine said, still laughing. 

"I don't see the connection," Sophia said.

"The Klingons are fictional," Rachel said, confused.

"They were an ancient warrior race and everything had to do with the honor of their House," Francine said.

"I was never really into Star Trek," Quinn said to her sister. "That was all you and the short skirts."

"Hah!" Santana said. "It does fit. Quinn and her troopers can be a bit extreme when it comes to points of honor."

"It's a good morale builder," Quinn said. "We can't all be sports fanatics like your spacers."

"Speaking of sports," Santana said. "You're all invited to next week's inaugural ulama game here. We don't sacrifice the losers but it should still be fun."

"Is that a traditional Clan sport?" Leroy asked.

"Not yet, but it has promise," Santana said. "It's a Mayan sport."

"Dinner is ready," Brittany said, getting to her feet. "You'll love it. The Fleet Chef has been experimenting with local foods."

"She's created some wonderful vegetarian dishes," Rachel added.

"Of course she has," Santana said, smirking. "She's got a crush on you like all the Quinns."

"All of the Quinns?" Francine asked, once more poking her sister, before being pulled to her feet by Shelby.

"Yes. ALL of them," Brittany said, giggling, wrapping her arms around Santana and following her out of the room.

"I don't have a crush on her," Quinn grumbled, once Rachel was out of sight with her fathers.

"And Shelby is just my best friend," Francine said in a low voice, "but that doesn't mean other people have their own opinions."

"You do seem to be awful close, granny," Quinn said, poking her. "How did you two meet?"

"It's a long story," Shelby said.

"And your fault," Francine said. "There's a scholarship at your old school in Lima. It's in your names. We bumped into each other one day next to the plaque with the winner's names on it."

"Literally," Shelby said. "We've been friends ever since. And now that we know what happened to the four of you, maybe she'll be willing to get on with her own life."

"What does that mean?" Quinn asked her blushing sister.

"Nothing," Francine said quickly.

"She's spent the last few years worrying about you and trying to convince everyone who would listen that you're still alive and need to be found," Shelby said.

"Well, you don't need to do that anymore," Quinn said. "Either of you. Take some time off and just relax. Keep the beach house."

"Are the four of you going to let us help out, in whatever way we can?" Francine said, holding out a chair for Shelby, Quinn sitting down between them and the Berry's.

"We'll have to see what Brittany has planned," Quinn said.

"Brittany seems to have a lot to say," Francine said. "Was she always like this? The impression I get from your classmates, and that horrifying coach, is that she was a typical blonde airhead."

"She's definitely the brains of the operation," Quinn said. "She really had everyone fooled. Her guardians trained her to be a leader of her Clan, and they're known for their ability to plan in great detail."

"Interesting," Shelby said. "So, you're in charge of the Clan army. How is that working out?"

Quinn nodded, her mouth full. "It's been an interesting experience. My girls are great. Smart, tough, and the best."

"And you're very proud of them," Francine said, insightfully.

"Of course I am," Quinn said. "I taught them almost everything they know."

"You were a pacifist," Francine said. "My little sister, charter member of Lima's branch of Amnesty International. What happened?"

"People change," Quinn said. "I had to become tougher to survive High School. And then this happened. They needed a general who cared about the troops, and cared about everyone else. And who was tough enough to fight."

"You always said Santana was a tough bitch," Francine said. "Why not her?"

"It's a different kind of toughness," Quinn said. "Santana could blast a city from space, pushing the red button herself, killing everyone in it, if it was necessary. But she would cry afterwards. She's a great leader. Everyone in the Fleet worships her almost as much as they adore Berry. They would do anything for her. But she isn't a warrior. She couldn't go into battle and kill on a personal level."

"And you are," Francine said, wide eyed.

"Yes."

"When have you led your troopers into battle?" Leroy asked, leaning in to their conversation. "I thought you haven't been challenged yet?"

"You mean, besides hundred of hours and months of combat simulation?" Quinn asked.

"No offense, but yes," he said. "You are all still children."

"I could show you all of my scars, but we usually wear armor, good armor. And have good medics. Our hard suits could potentially survive ground zero of a nuclear blast. For a few seconds anyway," Quinn said. "In the two weeks we've been on the ground, we've managed to eliminate most of the drug gangs in the Zone. And they aren't shy about taking hostages and randomly killing anyone in their way."

"So, it hasn't been as peaceful a transition to Clan rule as everyone is saying," Leroy said.

"No. We have tried to keep most of the damage away from the general population, and Brittany is very good at damage control, but we've had some horrific days," she said, looking down at her plate. "Really horrific ones."

"Rachel doesn't seem to be hardened by this," Leroy said. "She seems wiser than she was several years ago, but not someone who's been under attack. Or under great stress."

"She knows what is happening out there," Quinn said. "She's our historian. But she's not directly involved in the fighting. She's too important to risk."

"I see."

"She's also gone through our self defense training," Quinn said. "So, she's not helpless. But she's very well protected. You don't need to worry about her. That's our job."

"I'm her father," Leroy said. "Worrying is part of the territory."

"And keeping her safe is something we do," Quinn said. "English just doesn't have the words or concepts to explain how important she."

"Important to you? Or important to the Clan?" Francine asked, looking at her over the top of her wine glass.

"Umm…" Quinn looked at her, unable to give her a coherent answer.

"I thought so," Francine said, nodding to herself.


	17. Settling In

"What's going on?" Rachel asked, entering the Operations room with her escort. She'd been having a quiet lunch with her fathers when they'd been interrupted by an action alarm. She'd had them taken back to their hotel before heading to Ops.

Brittany pointed at the screens. "Live feed," she said. "One of the local gangs is holed up in the Gran Hotel in Merida. They've got missiles and some hefty anti-personnel weapons. The city police just aren't equipped to handle that kind of firepower, so the mayor requested assistance."

"This is the mayor we had to bribe?" Rachel asked.

"We bribed every mayor," Brittany reminded her. "It's SOP. We want them on our side and coming to us for problems like this. We've replaced the Federal authorities they used to go to when these kinds of things happened, but they need to be encouraged to work with us."

"Who did you send?" Rachel asked, peering at the nearest screen.

"Quinn volunteered Gold Team," Brittany said, pointing at a screen displaying trooper status checks.

"Of course she did," Rachel said, flopping down onto a chair. "None of the gang are going to survive her little visit, are they."

"This is Quinn we're talking about. She prefers to make an example of them," Brittany said. "Just like the last drug gang she took down."

"We need another way for her to work out her aggression," Rachel said. "Something with less bloodshed. Does her sister really believe she's a pacifist at heart?"

"Even pacifists have their limits," Brittany said. "They pushed the wrong buttons this time. Not that it takes much. Q really hates the drug cartels for some reason."

"They wanted to get into a fight with us?" Rachel asked, surprised. "Do they not understand who we are?"

"I don't think they really believe it," Brittany said. "They think we're just little girls playing at soldiers."

"Ouch," Rachel said. She hoped for their sake they didn't say that to Quinn's face. "How long does she plan on this taking?"

"Long enough to make a point, and not a minute longer."

"What about the hotel?" Rachel asked. "Seems very impressive. Is there going to be anything left of it when she's done?"

"We bought it from the Mayor's nephew ten minutes ago," Brittany said, causing Rachel to wince.

"Before we're done, we're going to end up owning every hotel, motel, and restaurant in the Zone," Rachel said, grimacing.

"That isn't really a bad idea," Brittany said. "We'll have to hire managers, and someone will have to supervise them, but the income would be useful. We can't keep Santana's crews on mining duty forever."

"I was kidding," Rachel said, watching the action on the screen.

"I'm not," Brittany said. "Once we have things under control, both in and outside the Zone, and people get a chance to see our tech, we'll be flooded by people claiming Clan heritage. They'll need to stay somewhere."

"Like carpetbaggers?" Rachel said. "Why not just keep them out altogether?"

"We have more control by being welcoming," Brittany said. "We can filter out the fakes on our own terms. Besides, we'll need their good will and support when we eventually reveal our end game."

"Support? Meaning, improving the tech of the whole world?" Rachel asked, turning away from the screens.

"Solving hunger. Stopping Wars. That kind of thing," Brittany said.

"That isn't part of the plan we agreed on with the Confederation AI's," Rachel said. "Won't they object?"

"It's our planet," Brittany said. "As long as we think long term, and prepare for the Enemy, they won't care how we get there. They aren't like the Federation in Star Trek. There is no Prime Directive in Confederation policy. The assumption is that contact between civilizations changes things, no matter how hard you try to avoid it, and that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"Okay," Rachel said. "You've sold me. What's one more project. Let's make the world a better place."

"First we have to defeat the Enemy," Brittany said. "Then we'll have plenty of time. We'll just lay the groundwork for now."

"It'll take decades," Rachel warned her.

"Thanks to Clan medi-tech we're going to live for centuries," Brittany reminded her cheerfully.

"Let's keep that our little secret," Rachel said. "The minions and hangers-on don't need to know that right now."

"Absolutely," Brittany said. "Look! She's done," she said, turning and pointing at one of the screens.

"That was fast," Rachel said. "Is that a scratch on Pin's armor?" she asked, pointing.

"Looks like a scuff mark," Brittany said. "Someone must have tried to hit her with a rocket."

"Not bullets?" Rachel asked, hoping she sounded more curious than horrified. The annexation had been going on for four weeks, with the occasional battle between Clan troopers and local criminals. None of Quinn's troopers had gotten hurt but she still worried about them. Rachel wasn't looking forward to the inevitable conflict between the Clan and local governments. Or when the real fighting started.

"Those just bounce off without leaving a mark," Brittany said. "I bet Quinn wasn't happy about it, though. Pin is her best lieutenant."

"Her successor?" Rachel asked.

"Maybe," Brittany said, poking the screen. "We'll have to see. It's too early to make that decision. But Pin's a Santana-Quinn so she has a shot. She has Quinn's deadly battle sense mixed with Santana's ability to plan."

"That could be scary," Rachel said.

"Oh yeah," Brittany said. "The AI's got lucky with you three. Talent, trainability, and hotness."

"I don't think that last one was on their checklist," Rachel said, giggling.

"No, but putting the whammy on someone is a lot easier if they're too busy basking in the hotness to notice," Brittany said.

"Can we talk with her?" Rachel asked.

"Sure," Brittany said, tapping on her ever present tablet. "Hey Quinn!" she said. "Got a minute for your groupie?"

"Hey Brit," Quinn said, her voice slightly husky. "Groupie?"

"What's wrong with her voice?" Rachel whispered.

"She gets like that after a battle," Brittany whispered back. "It's very sexy."

"Who's there with you?" Quinn asked.

"Hi Quinn!" Rachel said.

"Hey, Berry," Quinn said. "Enjoy the fight?"

"No," Rachel said, glad Quinn couldn't see her face. "People dying is a huge turn-off, I've found."

Quinn turned her head, giving them a view of the hotel lobby, littered with debris. "They gave us little choice," she said. "They were terrorizing students at one of the local colleges."

"Death isn't always the best answer," Rachel said, disapprovingly.

"No, but in this case? It was our only option, unless we wanted a lot of dead hotel guests and workers," Quinn said. Rachel wondered if she was imagining the sad tone in Quinn's voice. Wondered if it was possible for her to be excited and sad at the same time.

"Are we still having dinner tonight?" Rachel asked.

"It might have to be later than we planned," Quinn said. "Even with the nano-bots, clean-up is going to take a few hours."

"Give me a shout when you're back," Rachel said. "There's a restaurant in Cancun that my fathers say is fantastic that I'd like to try."

"Will do," Quinn said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to the Mayor."

"Okay," Rachel said. The screen went dark as Quinn turned off the video feed.

"You and Quinn are going on a date?" Brittany said, excitedly. "Is this your first one?"

"It's not a date," Rachel said softly, looking down and poking her tablet. "Just two friends enjoy an evening out. This isn't the first time we've gone out to dinner."

"Do you want it to be a date?" Brittany asked, smiling at her.

"It doesn't matter what I want," Rachel said, getting up. "Quinn is just a friend."

"If that's how you feel, I won't argue," Brittany said, nodding. "So, where are you off to now?"

"Santana's cousin Sophia promised to go over her dissertation with me," Rachel murmured, blushing.

"She is kinda hot," Brittany said, smirking. "These Lost Clan women are scrumptious."

"All we're doing is talking," Rachel said.

"Well, go do the talking thing," Brittany said, shaking her head at Rachel's obliviousness. She refrained from making another comment. She knew Rachel wouldn't appreciate it. The question, in her mind, was whether Rachel was aware of Sophia's attention for what it really was.

"I will," Rachel said, nodding.

"You'll be back in time for dinner with Quinn?" Brittany asked.

"Yes," Rachel said. "Of course." Stuffing her tablet in a coat pocket, she bounced out of the room.

"Quinn's going to have her hands full with that one," Brittany said, "if the two of them stop ignoring what's right in front of them. Right Artie?"

"Yes, Lady Shadow," Artie said. 

"I'm going to have to interfere, if they don't hurry it up," she muttered, picking up her own tablet before skipping out of the room.

* * *

"Remind me why we're playing nice?" Quinn said, rubbing her forehead. It'd been a long day, rooted out that drug gang from the hotel. If there hadn't been any guests in the hotel, they could have leveled it, though it had cost them double what she suspected the hotel was worth to make that an option.

"Because we need them more than they need us?" Pin said, removing her hard suit just inside the door of their ready room.

"They don't know that," Quinn said, leaning back against her locker. "They just know we're willing to pay a premium for anything we plan to destroy."

"They must have noticed by now that everything we buy looks better when we're done," Pin said.

"It's possible they haven't," Quinn told her. "Though, they're corrupt, not stupid."

"Did you have to deal with this kind of thing before the Clan?" Pin asked, curious. A few of Quinn's troopers knew about her true past, though it was rarely discussed. They also knew that their own childhoods had taken place in the learning pods, something that had worried Rachel when she'd found out.

"No," Quinn said. "Upper middle class America thinks this is the kind of thing that happens in gangster movies."

"Like that show Sopranos?" Whist asked, pausing on her way to the shower room Quinn shared with her lieutenants.

"Yes," Quinn said, grimacing. "I can't believe we let you watch that. It's exaggerated for TV."

"We had a fully balanced childhood experience in the pods," Pin said, "including American television. Just like the real thing."

"Speak for yourself," Bobbi said, dropping her towel down the laundry chute. "Sex is so much better in the real world. It has a brightness that the pod sims just doesn't have."

"I'll have to take your word on that," Quinn said, glad she no longer blushed at the blunt talk of her troopers. The learning pods had encouraged a closeness that allowed them to speak their minds, something very foreign to Quinn's upbringing.

"You did the full leadership course in the pods," Whist said. "You weren't alone the whole time, were you?"

"Yes, but it was different," Quinn admitted. "Your pod-life and training sims were based on things the AI learned from us. Your accelerated childhoods were based on ours, but were basically the 'good parts' versions."

"Really?" Pin said. "So we relived your childhood?"

"I hope not!" Quinn said. "No one deserves that kind of childhood."

"Oh."

"But, it isn't like your childhoods were programmed versions of ours," Quinn said, quickly. "You had real childhoods in the pods, as strange as that may be to understand by others. There was nothing fake about your experiences. You interacted with each other. Learned things together. Became friends and competed against each other."

"Once you'v experienced both sim and real life, it's possible to tell the difference," Whist said. "But how much of that time in the sims was ours and how much was just an echo of someone else's life?"

"If you really want to know how the sims work, Artie can help you," Quinn said. "I suspect, if you ask, she might show you what our lives were like in our own childhoods. She records everything that goes through your head when you're in the pods. But be prepared to be disappointed. It's nothing like whatever you're probably imagining. We did not have TV family lives. Of all of us, Lady Air probably had the closest thing to a normal childhood. And that's only by comparison."

"I'll pass," Pin said. "Seeing how you grew up, using the pods as one gigantic pensieve, isn't going to make us better warriors."

Quinn nodded, hoping her relief wasn't showing. If her lieutenants really wanted to learn from her childhood mistakes, she was reluctant but willing to let them look, though she really didn't think it would be useful. They wouldn't learn how to be better warriors or members of the Clan, as the case may be, by digging around in her memories.

"I'm curious to see how different things were, but not enough to invade your privacy," Whist said. "You probably shouldn't make that offer to any of the Nine Cultists," she added, laughing. "They already worship the four of you. They don't need any more wanking material."

"Okay, this topic has just reached its end," Quinn said, glaring at her three lieutenants.

"Got it Boss," Bobbi said. "But I bet you were sexy in your cheerleader outfit."

"You didn't have cheerleading in the pods?" Quinn asked, dreading the answer.

"No," Pin said. "Not as anything organized. A few of the girls watched some cheerleading movies and put together cheering clubs. But it was really just for fun."

"Good to know," Quinn said. "Cheering can provide a number of benefits but the way we did it when I was a teen was unhealthy and slightly crazy."

"So, Boss," Bobbi asked, several minutes later. "You have a date with the Memory tonight."

"It's not a date," Quinn said, only slightly mollified by the other's laughing. "She and I go way back. It's just a friendly dinner."

"If you say so," Bobbi said. "But if you need us to run interference with any of her parents, just let us know."

"No, enjoy your evenings off," Quinn said. "It's not a date so I won't need any assistance."

"If you say so," Whist said, obviously not believing her. "Come on ladies, let's let our fearless leader get ready for her date." Laughing she skipped out of the locker room, Pin and Bobbi in tow.

"It's not a date!" Quinn shouted after them, groaning.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," a voice said, echoing around the room.

"Not you too," Quinn said, glaring at her sister, as she came into view. "It's dinner. With a friend. Not a date."

"It's dinner with a friend," Francine said. "Yada, yada, yada. You're not very convincing."

"A date implies things. Complicated things," Quinn said "We just occasionally enjoy each other's company."

"As long as you're happy, Quinnie," Francine said, sitting down next to her.

"And don't call me Quinnie!" Quinn shouted, her voice echoing around the room.

"Does anyone know about Lucy?" Francine asked, dogging the end of Quinn's towel.

"Other than Artie?" Quinn asked, surprised at the question.

"How did Artie find out?" Francine asked, flopping back down onto the floor, this time colliding with the pillow Quinn threw at her.

"The nose," Quinn said. "She wanted to know why it didn't match the one in my genetic profile. And what the purpose of the change was."

"So, some of these ferocious young women are running around with Lucy's nose?" Francine asked.

"No." Quinn said, sitting down next to her.

"How'd you manage that?" Francine asked, staring at her sister.

"I might have asked her to tweak things a little bit in my profile," Quinn said, smirking. "So it's really the Fabray nose. The one you have, and I missed."

"Clever," Francine said. "So, Lucy is forever wiped from history? I liked Lucy," she added. "Lucy was cute, and smart, and better than the Fabrays."

"No, not completely," Quinn said. "She has a place in the official history of the new Clan."

"In the bottom of a file cabinet, in the basement, behind a door labeled 'Beware of the Tiger' in a room with no light?" Francine said with a smirk.

"Something like that," Quinn said dismissively. "So, what brings you here? Should't you be at the beach?"

"I can't just drop in for a visit with my favorite sister?" Francine said, standing up.

"Your only sister," Quinn said, correcting her. "That everyone thinks is dead."

"My only sister who, while apparently missing for five years, joined a real life version of one of her favorite manga," she said, holding out her hand.

"The hard suits are pretty cool," Quinn said, giving her a small smile, grabbing her hand, and pulling herself up.

"Yes, they are. But I'm not sure I want to know, yet, the real reason you need to wear something that would cause a nerdgasm in Lucy Quinn Fabray," Francine said.

"Umm… no you don't," Quinn said, agreeing. "But that's years from now. And ours are much better."

"Enough distracting," Francine said, frowning. "Go get ready for dinner." Leaning forward, she gave her sister a hug.

"Yes, ma'am," Quinn said, kissing her on the cheek, before leadinging her out of the room.

* * *

"What's on the agenda for today," the American Ambassador said, looking down the long conference table at his bored staff.

"You have a meeting with the Governor of Yucatan's Chief of Staff after lunch," his secretary said.

"Any idea what she wants?" he asked.

"Something about asylum for herself and some of her people," she said.

"Asylum from who?" he asked, puzzled.

"She didn't say."

"Okay, anything else?"

"Rumor has it that the communication embargo is going to be lifted tomorrow," his communication director said.

"A real rumor or something you heard at the beach," he asked dryly.

"It's not a rumor," a loud voice said from the door.

"Ah, Agent Schultz, good of you to finally join us. Where have you been for the last three months?" he asked, glaring at her.

"Investigating the Yucatan Annexation," she said, pulling out an empty chair near the door, and sitting down. Loud questions filled the air.

"Investigating the what for whom?" the Ambassador's Chief of Staff asked, waving the others to silence.

"The Yucatan Annexation," she said. "That's the official name to the alien land grab. And my team was seconded to a special UN task force."

"Why wasn't I informed," the Ambassador asked.

"I'm telling you now," she told him, pouring herself a glass of water.

"Have you been in contact with home base?" he asked.

"For the last month," she said, smirking at his reaction. She'd known the Ambassador since college and liked him even less now than she did then.

"And you're only telling us now?" the Ambassador said.

"Need to know," she said. "And you didn't need to know. Besides, you don't have the staff to handle the communication methods required."

"We have plenty of staff who can use a phone," the Communication director said, haughtily.

"Do they speak Mayan?" she asked. At their blank faces, she said, "Thought not. All communication in and out of the annexation zone must be in Classical Mayan or it won't get through the blackout."

"But this restriction will be lifted tomorrow?" the Chief of Staff asked. She nodded. "Where did you hear that?"

"From our generous proto-Mayan alien overlords," Schultz said.

"You've had contact with them?" the Ambassador asked. "They've refused meeting requests from every embassy in the city. If you aren't a local they aren't talking."

"Maybe you just aren't important enough?" Schultz said, amused.

"I'm the American Ambassador," he said.

"And I'm Agent in Charge of the US Mission to the Neo-Pan-Galactic Confederation," Schultz said.

"The what to the who?" the Ambassador said.

"In charge," she said, pointing at herself. "Our alien friends out there, busy turning the Yucatan into an independent state, are a peacekeeping force, of a sort, from the Neo-Pan-Galactic Confederation."

"And they couldn't come to us?" the Ambassador said. "We're trained to work with foreign entities."

"It's a little more complicated than that," Schultz said. "I'm sure you can request a copy of my report, once it's translated, and declassified, the day after tomorrow, that outlines the whole mess."

"Why not tell us now?" the Ambassador said.

"Because I have a meeting in Washington with the President, this evening, and at the UN tomorrow," Schultz said.

"The UN?" he sputtered.

"Yes. You can watch it, if you want," she said, smirking. "It'll be broadcast live on the usual channels. Our gracious invaders, though they prefer to think of themselves as liberators, but that's a long story, will be meeting with the UN Security Council. But just as a courtesy. The UN doesn't have the mandate for handling this kind of thing. The real meeting is with the President tonight."

"Oh," the Ambassador said, faintly.

"Don't worry," she said. "You might still have a job when we're done. And now I have to go."

"Wait, I still have questions," the Ambassador said.

"No time, you can ask them when I get back," Schultz said. "And, about the Yucatan Governor's Chief of Staff request? You'll probably want to say no. She was spotted in the company of the head of that cartel gang that was taken out last week. Our hosts really hate the drug cartels for some reason, and seem to be trying to wipe them out on the entire peninsula. And quite successfully." Nodding to them, she left the room, leaving behind a shocked silence.

* * *

"That was fun," Schultz said, rejoining her crew in the Embassy lobby.

"Did you record it?" Bobbi asked.

Reaching into a shirt pocket, Schultz pulled out a slim, card sized device. "Here you go, a Lady Shadow special."

Smiling, Bobbi slipped it into a pocket. "Comedy Gold, I bet," she said. "When are you leaving for Washington?"

"The advance teams are on the ground in Washington now," she said. "It's a quick flight, so this afternoon."

"Good," Tex said. "There's a restaurant down by the beach I've been meaning to try out."

"Beach or beach bunnies?" Bobbi said, following her out of the embassy.

"You've been spending too much time with some of the Santana's," Betsy said.

"You have to admit they can be a lot of fun," Tex said, smirking. "You wouldn't know they're the product of an alien civilization."

"As long as it's mutual," Schultz said. "Just don't mistake one of them for Lady Air."

"No chance of that," Tex said. "There's only one Lady Air."

"And only one Lady Shadow, who would probably stake you out on a fire-ant mound, and smile while doing it. Followed by some interpretive dance she learned at her favorite Cancun strip club, if you tried to use one of your lines on Lady Air," Peaches said.

"It's a good thing they're civilized," Jess said, giggling.

"Yes," said Schultz. "And, they'd never stab one of us in the back, like the Boss tried that time with the French ambassador's wife."

"I said I was sorry," Tex muttered, ignoring the laughter from the rest of the team. "How was I to know that was his wife, not his daughter?"

"That wouldn't have been much better, Tex," Schultz said.

"At least we now know that we all have Lost Clan ancestors," Peaches said. "So we'll always have a place here if we need to escape."

"That was definitely a shock," April said, getting into their SUV's drivers seat. 

"Not if you read High Priestess Sophia's dissertation," Betsy said. "She clearly lays out how it could happen. The more amazing thing is that we all ended up with the Agency at the same time."

"That's your thing," Tex said, climbing in. "Not my idea of beach reading."

"Ladies?" Schultz said, joining them in the SUV.

"Yes, boss?" they chorused, bursting into laughter.

"What did we agree to say about that?"

"We don't tell anyone," Jess said, from the back seat.

"And why?"

"So the Boss won't think we'll 'go native'," April said, "And we'll keep getting paid."

"And don't forget it!" Schultz told them. "Lunch?"

"Lunch," April said, putting the SUV in gear and driving off.


	18. Epilogue ( Book I )

"I want one," the President said, as they watched a broadcast of the alien craft landing at Camp David. Wingless, it seemed to float in the air like a bubble as it gracefully came to a halt on the helipad.

"Congress won't want to pay for it," his Chief of Staff said.

"Who said anything about paying for it?" the President asked.

"You can't just take it," his Chief of Staff said.

"They'll give us one," the President said. "We know something they don't want anyone to know."

"Which is?"

"Who they really are," he said. "And where they come from."

"Aliens," one of his science advisors said. "They come from some place not here."

"You'll see," the President said. "Shall we?" he gestured to the door that led to the conference room.

"He's not going to tell us, is he," the science advisor said to the National Security Advisor in a low voice.

"No," he said, with a grimace. "The aliens, whomever they are, were actually very clever when they picked their mouthpieces, but not clever enough."

"You know what he was talking about?" the advisor asked.

"Yes," he said as the door closed behind them.

* * *

"All set?" Brittany asked Rachel. "Remember, we have something they want. The power is all ours."

"Right. We have Santana and Quinn," Rachel said, rubbing her hands together nervously. "They just have enough weapons to wipe Yucatan off the map."

"Yes! Exactly," Brittany said, giving her a hug. "Two bitchy ex-cheerleaders with more firepower than the rest of the planet combined. They can't beat us."

"Right. What was I thinking," Rachel said, nodding her head.

"No matter what happens, stay calm," Brittany said. "Even if they've figured out our secret identities, we don't need them to get the job done. This is just a courtesy visit. Any help they give us is a bonus. If they won't play it our way, there's always Japan."

"Japan?" Rachel turned and gave her a puzzled look.

"They were the alternate choice for our Clan cultural base," Brittany said. "I didn't tell you?"

"No. So we could be speaking Japanese instead of Mayan?" Rachel asked.

"If the Confederation AIs hadn't decided that there was still a viable Mayan proto-culture, yes." Brittany laughed. "Quinn would have loved it."

"She does seem to have a thing for the whole samurai honor code thing."

"And cyberpunk anime," Brittany added.

"Maybe we can arrange a meeting with the Japanese emperor and her favorite voice actors," Rachel said. "But first, a President."

"Pip and Squeak will wait for us here," Brittany said. "No need to freak out the Secret Service. Your under-suit will protect you from anything they might try before they can reach you, if we need to get out of there suddenly."

"Okay," Rachel said, taking several slow, deep breaths. "Do we know who's doing the translation?"

"If they don't have someone, Artie can do it. Takes some of the shock value away but still gives us the advantage," Brittany said.

* * *

"Ladies, if you would come with me," a man who introduced himself as the President's Chief of Staff said through the very young looking interpreter. "The President would like to meet with both of you privately first." Nodding to the Secret Service agent who'd brought them through security, he pointed down the long hall to where two more agents stood, guarding a door. Walking past the others, he led them to it.

The door opened, revealing a small conference room containing two people, the President, and a young woman dressed in a vaguely militaristic uniform. The woman stood up as they entered, and closed the door, remaining in the room.

"Have a seat, Miss Pierce, and Miss Berry," the woman said, once they were in the room.

Rachel gave Brittany a look. 

"I have my sources," she whispered, with a small smile. "Don't worry, our plans cover this."

"I have to admit to being curious," the President said, when they were all seated. "How did three of Sue Sylvester's Cheerios and a Glee Club captain with dreams of Broadway end up shilling for an alien civilization setting up a base in Mexico."

"Mr President, your sources are slightly mistaken," Brittany said, dropping the pretense that they didn't speak English. "We aren't figureheads for an alien invasion. We have not been brainwashed and are not mind controlled. Whatever our perceived origins, we are operating with the full authority of the Neo Pan Galactic Confederation. We are the Clan of the Dragon, for all intents and purposes, and we are here to do a job. We would prefer your co-operation but can operate without it."

"But you are Rachel Berry, and Brittany Pierce," the woman said. "Two of four young women from Lima, Ohio, who went missing five years ago. We are assuming the other two, Santana Lopez, and Lucy Fabray, are also part of this so called Clan."

"There is nothing 'so-called' about it," Rachel said. "Our clan may be small but the Clans have a long and honorable history in the Confederation."

"Mr. President, and she-minion," Brittany said. "The Yucatan Annexation is not some B-grade Movie plan to conquer this planet. Three millennia ago, the Clan responsible for policing this sector of the Galaxy set up a base on the Yucatan Peninsula. A thousand years ago, something happened to them. Over a million of their descendants still live on this planet, mostly in the Yucatan, but also in small pockets scattered all over the planet due to the Spanish invasions of the Americas The other three are among those descendants. We are merely rebuilding our base on this planet on land that was originally ours."

"And yourself?" the woman asked.

"The Clans are all descended from a civilization on the other side of the universe. My parents were members of one of those other clans. One of the ones, like the one that settled on the Yucatan, that is genetically compatible with the natives of this planet. So, yes, I actually am an alien, and not just a deluded former Sue Sylvester minion. How is Coach, by the way," she asked the woman, who blushed in response.

"You have proof of this," the President said.

"Of course," Rachel said. "We come in peace, more or less."

"If we'd wanted to invade, you wouldn't have seen us coming," Brittany said softly. "Santana Lopez? She's our Clan Fleet Admiral. She has enough firepower to turn this planet into a charred cinder."

"And why haven't you?"

"Why would we? This is our planet too," Rachel said. "Our loyalties are to Clan first, but we will do what we can to protect this planet."

"Besides, Quinn's girls and San's spacers wouldn't appreciate it if we ruined their favorite beaches," Brittany said.

"And, while the Confederation doesn't interfere in local planetary politics, they wouldn't have given us this power if they thought we would abuse it," Rachel said.

"Why now?" the President asked. "And not when this old clan disappeared?"

"Why now?" Rachel said. "The Confederation is huge and moves slowly. It took them a few hundred of our years to realize there was no active Clan in this corner of the Confederation."

"And then there's the war," Brittany added.

"War?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Brittany said, waving her hands. "The universe is huge, really huge, and the Confederation is smaller. An ancient enemy of the Confederation is headed this way, right through your backyard. They should be here in a decade, when you aren't president. We'll take care of them when they get here."

"I thought we weren't going to mention that yet," Rachel said.

"I think they can keep it a secret," Brittany said. "Right? And we'd appreciated if you forgot we're from Lima for now."

"Of course," the President said. "We see no reason to reveal that information."

"What else did you want to know?" Brittany asked, pretending to believe him. She wasn't gullible, she knew he and his staff would find some way to take advantage of them being from Lima. And the president was a politician. If something wasn't going to matter until long after he was out of office, he'd ignore it.

"My advisors will want to know that you are willing to share your technology," the President said.

"You've seen Star Trek, right?" Brittany asked. "The Confederation doesn't actually have a Prime Directive policy. They leave it up to the discretion of the Clans on how much knowledge to share with our host planets."

"And what have you decided?" the woman asked.

"Well, most of our tech is keyed to the Clan. If you don't have enough Clan DNA it won't work for you anyway. Which means what we'll be mostly sharing is knowledge," Brittany said. "But carefully."

"Carefully?" the President asked.

"In moderation, that Prime Directive policy is actually a sound idea," Rachel said. "Too much knowledge, too fast, can be very disruptive. People need to get used to things gradually. We won't just hand over our tech or science."

"We can work out the details later," Brittany said. "We think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement. What we need to discuss is tomorrow. Are you going to support us at the UN?"

"I'm sure something can be arranged," the President said. "Why don't we take this meeting to the full group."

* * *

"Ready?" Brittany asked, as they waited for the meeting with the UN Security Council to start.

"Why couldn't Quinn or Santana come with us?" Rachel asked again. "This is really their thing."

"Because it's too risky," Brittany said, in a low voice. "Besides, Schultzie and her girls have our backs and the POTUS is on our side, now that we've explained things and convinced him we're serious."

"Some day you'll have to explain how you managed that one," Rachel said, instinctively sitting up straighter as the sound of the gavel being banged rang through the large room. "I think he gave in too easily."

"Some day," Brittany said, winking at her. "Now, wow them!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end of the story. This is my current NaNoWriMo project. The next Book (II) will be posted approx. 2 months after NaNoWriMo 2013. (It takes time to revise my messy NaNo-writing for public consumption.) There will also be the occasional 1-2K word interlude ficlet in-between.
> 
> If you've read this chapter elsewhere, it used to be longer. I've removed a scene set in Lima and moved it to later in the timeline due to continuity conflicts with the first Interlude.


End file.
